


Six Days Waiting

by Axlaida



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Everyones supportive, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Lots of Crying, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Sad Victor Nikiforov, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri, Victor needs a hug, Vomiting, aftermath of kidnapping, everyones sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 36,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axlaida/pseuds/Axlaida
Summary: On the morning Victor was taken, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to have him back home. Victor wanted nothing more than to escape the room he'd never seen before and figure out how he got there in the first place.~Where Victor is kidnapped and everyone, except for one, wants him back home.





	1. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta'd!

 

_Day One: Alone_

On the first day, Victor cried.

He cried for what must have been hours. He wasn't sure. There was nothing there that told him the time. The day had blurred together into nothing but his sobs ripping through his body. He recalled waking up to the sun rising through the window, casting an annoying light upon his face. That was when he first became aware of his situation. Now it's amber rays shone through the bottom of the door on the opposite side. His stomach grumbled with hunger what was probably hours ago and he really needed to pee. He had been here for most of the day now.

He wailed. His heart ached and his face was wet with tears, and yet, that was the least of his worries.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't remember. Victor couldn't remember how he ended up here, trapped inside a small shed with his wrists tied behind his back and around a pole. He couldn't remember how his ankles were chained together with the chain leading to the farthest wall from him, or how tape had been wrapped over his mouth. He knew the memory was there. He could recall something happening but his mind was running haywire. He panicked and cried and hurt and the memories remaining in the back of his mind until he could at least calm himself down.

He just wanted to go home, but the thought of home, it made Victor cry harder.

He thought about everyone back home and how they were doing. They must've known by now that he was missing. They must have contacted the police. He didn't know and he couldn't know, not unless whoever took him told him so.

That was if whoever did take him would make their appearance.

He was certain he had practice that day. Yakov wouldn't let him skip out without an explanation. By now he should know he was missing. If not the Yuuri. Yuuri would be wondering where he was and why he wasn't back yet. Victor's heart sank. Yuuri must be so worried.

He thought about others. He thought to Yuri, Chris, Georgi, and Mila. He thought about everyone he had competed with over the years, old coaches and sponsors. He thought back to all the people he could remember, even the occasional fan who faces he could recall.

Victor missed Makkachin. God, he missed everyone.

There was still so much he wanted to do, so many things he never got the chance to do. He only just started the life he'd been neglecting. He concentrated just on skating for so long, there was so much he never got to do – things he couldn't do. It wasn't fair. He just found his life. He just found love. If he were going to die here... He'd have so many regrets.

Victor despised whoever took him. They took him away from so many people. They took him away from his friends, his skating. They took him away from Yakov and Yuuri and-

His Yuuri...

He tried not to think of Yuuri. It hurt too much, but Yuuri was always there, smiling at him with stars in his eyes. Yuuri meant so much to him. His mind then snapped to his hand. His fingers grasped at each other in search of the one item he couldn't bare to lose.

He sighed in relief. His ring still remained.

Victor wanted to remember Yuuri. If he did die here, he wanted to remember the way Yuuri smiled or the sound of his laughter. He wanted to remember his face and his features. He wanted to remember the feel of his kiss and the way his heart swelled with love when Yuuri did even the littlest things. Yuuri made him feel so much life, so much love -

Victor had to stop. His sobs that wrecked through his body became so heavy he almost felt sick. His heart ached. He just wanted to take a deep breath but the tape just made it so _damn_ hard. He wanted to claw at it and rip it away but his hands couldn't move farther than the space behind him. He pulled his arms in desperation, trying to release his wrists from the tight rope that wrapped around them. He pulled and clawed at the rope with his nails, desperately trying to get his hands free or even just loosen it. He couldn't reach the knot. He didn't even know where it was.

In a fit of frustration, Victor pulled with all the strength he had. His wrists stung and his arms ached. He knew he needed to stop. He had to force himself to before he really hurt himself. He breathed hard and heavy through his nose. The tape made it feel like he couldn't breathe properly. It made him panic on top of his original worry; he still didn’t know who took him or why. He didn’t know their motive, nor did he know what would happen to him. That was what scared him the most.

Victor breathed. In. And out. In. And out. In – And his breath shook. And out.

His heart still ached heavily but once he calmed down, he felt he could finally breathe at a little more ease. His head felt less foggy than before but his mouth was still so dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. There was nothing he could do about that. He had to keep his mind occupied. He had to keep himself together and as hard as it felt, he had to try.

He looked around the room he was in. He noted that the shed wasn't as much of a shed as it was a cheap looking bedroom. A mattress sat across from him but it had no blankets nor pillows. He saw stains littered across it and he didn't want to know what they were from. Regardless of the suspicious stains, he still wished he was sitting on that than the hard-wooden floor.

Victor saw his jacket folded up neatly on a metal chair by the mattress. His shoes were placed beside the chair too. The sight made him hold his stare. It seemed so tidy, as if the person cared about his belongings. Whoever it was, they didn't just throw it to the floor but they took the time to fold it. It made him feel uneasy. Even he didn't put up his jacket _that_ neatly.

Staring at his jacket made him realize how cold he was. The shed did nothing for keeping the warmth in and the cold out. He could feel the cold drafts break through the small cracks in the wood and he shivered. His long-sleeved shirt did nothing to protect him from the cold. And for his feet, he was just happy he had socks on.

Victor couldn't really feel his fingers anymore. He wasn't sure if it was just the blood not being able to circulate through his hand properly or the cold.

Maybe both.

He shook his head in a weak attempt to distract himself. He needed to get his mind away from how he felt. He looked around the room again and noticed how it seemed rather bare. For a shed, he would have expected it to be riddled with bugs and have gardening equipment inside. Yet it didn't. It seemed so empty and cleaned out. Victor wondered why the person who took him would even bother wanting to keep it clean, unless it was to begin with.

He didn't know how he would feel if the person had cleaned it out just for him, but at the same time, he was somewhat thankful for that. He could have been thrown into some dirty hole or kept in a shed that was riddled with bugs. He began to wonder who could have taken him. He could come up with a few ideas already. It could have been an obsessed fan who wanted him for themselves - or it could have been a lunatic. He hoped for the fan. He knew how to talk to them.

Victor could feel himself begin to panic again. He felt for his ring. Just knowing it was there and the feeling of it was enough to bring him some comfort and ease, distracting himself from the situation long enough to calm himself down. He was again thankful that the person hadn't taken his ring. He wouldn't know what he'd do if it was taken from him.

His mind then thought back to the person who took him. He started to ponder why he was kidnapped. There were so many reasons why and most he hoped weren't the case. Others, he could deal with.

Victor first thought it could be for money. He figured he was famous enough to be kidnapped in exchange for money. It could have been one of the reasons he had been taken. He was sure people did that to celebrities, but then he thought, had this even happened to a celebrity before? The worst part was that he couldn't recall anyone. He wondered maybe it was just kept a secret, or it never happened to anyone. He hoped it was kept as a secret, but he would know when - if, he got out of here.

Victor was bored. He was bored and emotionally drained and all he wanted to do was sleep in his own bed. He wanted to curl up in the warmth and cuddle up to Yuuri. He wanted to give Makkachin the biggest fuss and feel her fur through his fingers. He wanted to feel Yuuri's touch. He wanted to feel the passion for skating. He wanted so much.

Victor already decided if he did get out of here, he would never take advantage of his life ever again.

He began to feel annoyed with himself after a while. His brain was working at such a speed and yet his eyes felt so heavy. He could begin to feel how much crying had drained him out. He wanted to close his eyes, but he was afraid of what would come when he wakes up. His life could be over by the time he next opens his eyes. But he could also wake up and the whole situation was just a horrible, too real dream. He could wake up next to Yuuri and Makkachin.

He wished for that as his eyes closed.

 

_Day Two: Reveal_

Upon waking up on the second day, Victor came to two realizations.

One; Whoever it was that had taken him seemed to not care about him. His assumption for it being a crazed fan who wanted to keep him had gone out the window. He figured if it was a fan, they would have at least give him some food and water by now. It had been over a day now and he wasn't dealing with the lack of food very well. His stomach hurt worse than any pain he had ever felt on the ice.

And two; He felt absolutely disgusting.

Victor knew there were many other things he should be worried about, such as the kidnappers motive, or is own life, but he cared about how he looked and if he was going to die, he would at least like to die looking remotely hygienic.

Being stuck in the same spot for hours on end made him hyper-aware of how grimy and dirty he felt. He just wanted to have a shower and brush his teeth.

He hated this feeling.

It started to rain at some point during his restless sleep. He didn't really pay much attention. He kept waking up in complete darkness, with panic ripping through him. He woke up like that too many times that he lost count. His breath would be heavy and his eyes kept flooding with tears before exhaustion would take over again and he'd fall back asleep, only to do the same thing a few hours later.

The patter of the rain hitting the shed walls didn't bring him any peace. The rain used to relax him, make him feel at ease. Now it just felt too lonely. The chill from the air made him shiver and to his annoyance, he couldn't use his arms to warm himself up. He kept glancing over at his jacket, wanting nothing more than to wrap it around him.

Victor just wanted to get out of here. He would have yelled for help, screamed for someone - anyone to hear him, but the attempt seemed pointless. He knew the tape over his mouth would quieten his voice. He neither wanted the kidnapper to hear him try and escape and as much as he wanted to make that person’s life as difficult as possible, he still had to care for his own. Yuri would be so mad at him if he died out here.

He didn’t really know how long he had been missing. He knew he woke up at some point yesterday morning, but he wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious for. He tried thinking back to how he got here. He could recall more than he had before now his mind was cleared up. He remembered jogging. It was early, after 6 AM. He jogged his usual route, so he assumed the police could figure something out from that since he knew Yuuri or Yakov would have called the police by now. Were the police looking for him? Was anyone looking for him? He hoped so. He really did.

The rain stopped at some point in the day but clouds remained. He couldn't take an assumption of the time as he couldn't see the sun. It annoyed him. Not only that, Victor was going sort of insane with boredom. He could look around the room as much as he wanted, but there was only so much he could look at to distract himself from his own thoughts that reminded him how uncomfortable and terrified he was.

He wondered how everyone was doing. Yakov had to be frantic by now. He was both missing his practice and missing in person. He could already hear Yakov yelling at him to get back home and get back to skating. He laughed weakly. He hoped Yakov was doing okay, considering he was missing.

His stomach ached. He hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday morning. It wasn't good. He was weak; He wouldn't be able to fight back if he had to. Not that he could anyway, being all tied up. Though he would've found it nice to know if he needed to fight, he could fight. He didn't want to go down without at least trying to save himself. If the opportunity was there, he would take it.

Victor decided after his boredom became too much that he should test the ropes. He hoped that at some point in his sleep he wiggled himself in a position that loosened it. He tested the bonds on his wrist but the strong stinging sensation made him stop instantly. His heart sank. He didn't loosen it. He made it worse. He had to have had rope burn.

He started humming to himself at some point. The silence surrounding him was driving him crazy. The rain quickened again after a while, but it still pattered lightly against the shed. He hummed to his favorite songs and random tunes that he thought up of, anything he could think of, just to distract him from feeling alone and forgotten.

The sudden noise of leaves crunching against heavy footprints stopped Victor from his humming. He listened carefully, unsure if it were just his imagination – but no. The footprints were real, as was the sound of a heavy padlock knocked against the door as it was unlocked. His heart pounded hard and fast and he started to tremble. His breathing quickened. He was so terrified. He forced deep breaths before he began to hyperventilate. He didn't want to look weak. He couldn't.

The door handle clicked. Victor held his breath as the door slowly crept open. Was it his kidnapper? Was somebody coming to save him? He hoped someone was. The door opened in his direction, to his annoyance. He had yet to see the person's face.

A heavy, leather boot appeared first from behind the door. They stood carefully over the chain attached to Victor, careful not to step on it. In a sudden move, the door slammed shut behind the person and Victor couldn't help but jump, heart pounding. Then, he looked up and finally came face to face with his kidnapper.

And he – Oh god, he recognized that face from anywhere.

“Hello, son.”

Victor's fear was somewhat replaced with a red haze of anger as he stared up at the broad, disgusting face of his father. He hadn't seen him in years. And for a good reason, too. How dare he. How _dare_ he -

“Ah. I see you're not as excited to see me as I had wanted you to be.” His father then turned and placed the tray of food and water down on the mattress. Victor hadn't noticed the tray he was holding. He desperately wanted the contents on it, but he couldn't look weak in front of him. His father pulled the chair forward, turning it to face Victor as he sat down on it and began to stare.

Victor glared up at him, trying to broadcast his hatred for him as much as he possibly could. He now had more reasons to despise that man. On top of everything he had done in the past, he now decided to kidnap him. He had taken him away from his life – away from his friends, family, and lover. He dumped him in some shed where he would probably never be found and expected him to be excited to see him.

He huffed heavily through his nose. His father then hummed in thought. “I can already see you want to know why you're here,” It took a lot for Victor to not roll his eyes. The man continued, “I'll remove that tape and give you water and food. But first, I want you to listen to me and understand why I took you.”

Victor didn't want to know. It didn't matter what reason he had for taking him, he would never accept any reason why his father took him. His eyes then met the food sat on the plate, and the ice cold looking water. He didn't have to agree. He just had to co-operate.

He could do that. It was for his survival. He needed the water and the food.

His eyes met his father's, giving him the mute confirmation to continue. The pleased look in his eyes gave Victor some kind of reassurance.

“Hm, where to begin? I should probably say it started around the time you became too invested in that god damn hobby of yours. You were always skating. Just – always. I had hoped you'd eventually grow out of it. All I wanted was for you to do something I'd be proud of and yet, you grew your hair out, you rebelled against me and purposefully pissed me off all before leaving without a god damn word. You left me all alone after your mother passed on and I just -” He paused for a moment. Victor noticed in that moment that the man was scowling hard. “I lost everything. First, your mother left, then you did for your hobby and lived with a man who wasn't me. I've been angry, Victor. Very angry. I think it was the fact that you saw that other man as your father that truly angered me. That was the last straw, Victor. Of course, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter because now you're here, with me. You're here and you won't be leaving.”

Victor swallowed hard. He wouldn't - He wouldn't be leaving? His father surely didn't expect to keep him tied up in that shed for the rest of his life... did he?

He then continued, “Do you understand now? You left me for so long... I'm simply asking for my time back. You never even told anybody about me. You have no idea how much that hurt me, Victor. First your mother, then you. I guess I don't deserve a family.  I had to get one of you back. Your mother's long gone. But you... You were still there. You were still living and breathing and I just had to get you back. I had to. Your mother would have wanted you back home. But you just always refused to see me. That wasn't very nice.”

Victor knew his father tried getting in contact with him a few times. He didn't exactly know how many. After the first couple of times when he was fourteen, a couple of years after he left. He asked Yakov to just keep refusing him. Victor wanted nothing to do with the man. He figured Yakov had found a way to stop him from contacting Victor.

And clearly, that made things worse.

His father stayed silent for a few more moments. He then moved, reaching for his pocket as he pulled out an unknown object. The moment Victor's eyes landed on the sharp blade in the man's hand, he started pulling at his bonds again, panting harshly.

His father noticed his panic and raised a hand in defence. “I won't hurt you,” He said, almost sounding sincere. “Don't give me a reason to - and don't you dare yell.”

He moved forward and Victor wanted to back away but both the rope around his wrists and the chain attached to his ankles kept him in place. He felt his heart pound hard in his chest, fear suddenly sweeping over him once again. He could smell the sweat of his father and the cologne he wore to try and mask it. His throat still hurt and in his attempts to not cry kind of made it worse. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't.

The blade then slipped under the tape, the cold metal against his cheek made him pray that the blade didn't cut him. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that the knife was only used for the tape and nothing else. The cold metal then moved and the tight pressure from the tape felt loose. He carefully opened one eye and saw the man's hand grip the cut piece of tape and pulled it in a sudden, swift movement.

The strong sting from the tape being pulled from his skin and hair _hurt_. Before he could even cry out in pain, a large bulky hand slapped over his mouth, blocking out any loud noise he could have made. A few tears spilled from his eyes and a soft sob escaped his lips. The look his father gave him held no remorse. It was almost as if he was smirking at his pain. Victor then closed his eyes. He couldn't look at him anymore.

The rest of the tape was pulled away but it didn't hurt too bad. He was much more careful with it then when he first ripped it away. Victor licked his dry lips, but his mouth was just as dry that it made no difference. His father then turned away before coming back with the bottle of water he really needed. Victor couldn't resist drinking it. He had the slightest fear that it might have been drugged, but it just tasted like plain old water. He drank a little too fast and his father pulled the bottle away. He tried to bite back the small groan, already missing the taste.

“Calm down,” His father spoke sternly, “You'll make yourself sick.” The bottle then returned to his lips and he did what he was told. He took small sips, savoring each one.

The bottle was only half empty before it was removed from him again. The bottle then sat beside him and his father turned away, reaching for the plate of toast. His stomach groaned at the sight, his hunger became more intense.

The taste of toast had never been so delightful to him until today. It was bland, with nothing else on it, but it was the best thing he'd ever had since the bottle of water. Bite after bite, his stomach became more satisfied. His mouth felt less dry, his stomach hurt less and his head cleared up. Victor was amazed at what food and water did for him.

His eating came to an abrupt stop when he heard his father say, “You've been awfully quiet.” Victor didn't know how to respond to that. He moved to get another mouthful of toast, but it was moved away from him. He glanced between the food and his father, a little unsure what was happening. “I know you didn't want to see me, but I at least hoped you would have been a little happy.”

Victor swallowed hard. “You _kidnapped_ me,” He managed to say. His own voice had taken him by surprise. It was scratchy and rough and somehow made it all seem so much more real. He breathed hard, trying to keep both his tears out of his voice and his anger in control. “You've taken me away from everything I love because you're so – so _selfish._ I just – Please, let me go.”

His father sighed before laughing darkly. He shook his head, a light smile played on his lips. “I just wanted to bring you back home.”

It took a lot for Victor to not laugh. “And kidnapping me makes you 'Father of the year,' right?”

“It was the only way I could bring you back,” His father said in a harsh tone. “Your mother would have wanted you back home. Think of her for once.”

“Don't you _dare_ use mother against me,” Victor spat back a response. “She's gone. Accept it. Stop using her against me.”

“If you care about her, you'd think of what she would want,” His father responded, his face scowling harshly. Victor didn't respond. He chose not to. His father then took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “And besides, it's not like you're getting out of here. I want my time back, Victor. You left me for eleven years, so I'm keeping you for that long.”

Victor's heart started to pound again. It seemed unreal, but the fact that it wasn't, he didn't know how to handle that. It was far too real and Victor began to frantically shake his head, “No. No, no, no. This - That isn't fair!” He almost yelled. He ignored the panicked look in his father's eyes as he did. “P-people will look for me. The police, my friends, my -”

His father's voice stopped him. “- You're right. They are looking.”

Victor blinked once. Then twice. “...What?”

“They're looking for you. I watched it on the news,” He scowled. “It's pathetic really. That fiancé of yours couldn't even finish begging for your return before he started crying. It was so weak that I-”

Victor made a noise of rage and the man went quiet. The air was thick with a heavy silence that made Victor just as terrified as before. But he didn't care. His father could say as much as he wanted about him, but he didn't dare say anything about his Yuuri.

His father smirked knowingly. “So, that's your weak spot, is it?” He questioned. “What's his name? Yuuri?”

“Don't you dare speak about him,” Victor threatened as harshly as possible. The croak in his voice made it difficult for him to express his anger as much as he wanted, but Yuuri was worth the effort.

“And yet, another reason why you still remain to disappoint me,” He tutted. “You didn't even get my approval before you proposed to him. I would have said no. We don't need another weak male in the family.”

“Yuuri is not weak,” Victor growled. “I don't care about disappointing you. As far as I'm concerned, you're not my father anymore. I love Yuuri. He is everything to me, so don't you dare say anything about him. Ever.”

His father stared at him with a blank look before sighing. “Of course, but it wouldn't matter now anyway.”

He raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Like I said, which you clearly didn't listen to - you're never getting out of here,” His father shrugged carelessly. “You might as well forget about him. You won't be seeing him ever again.”

Victor froze. He couldn't spend the rest of his life trapped inside this shed, never to see anybody ever again. He couldn't. The thought of having to spend another day here was enough to drive Victor insane. But his whole life... No. He isn't going down without at least some kind of fight.

He hated his father. He hated his guts. He almost forgot how much he despised him as a child, and now he's back, causing Victor more pain and despair than he had before.

In a moment of confidence and fearlessness, he growled through gritted teeth, “Fuck you.” Then, a hesitant second later, he proceeded to scream as loud as his voice could possibly let him. He could already feel his aching throat protest against the noise, but he didn't care anymore. He needed someone – anyone, to hear him.

And the panicked look on his father's face made it all worth it, at least until the panic turned into anger. He saw the man turn around to grab something out of his view before he stomped towards Victor, and then suddenly his head flew backward, slamming against the pole behind him. His screaming came to an abrupt stop – his vision went bright and he saw sparks in his eyes, his head beginning to thump in pain.

In his dazed state, he didn't notice the tape in his father's hand until he felt a sticky feeling over his mouth. He frantically shook his head side to side, but his father gripped his hair tight and continued to wrap the tape around his head – Once, twice, three times, before ripping off the end and smoothing it out against his skin.

Victor yelled into the tape but nothing but a muffled noise came out. He pulled at his bonds and yelled and cried but nothing came from it. No matter how hard he pulled, or how loud he screamed, it all did nothing.

He slumped back once he grew tired – both physically and emotionally. His father was still standing there, staring at him as he struggled. Victor met his eyes, glaring daggers his way. It only made his father smile darkly.

“Take a moment to calm down. I'll be back later.” He turned, picking up the tray of food before he pulled the door handle, swinging it open with such force that it hit Victor's feet before slamming it shut. The padlock was locked and his footsteps became distant and quiet.

Victor listened. Once he became certain his father was out of hearing reach, he breathed heavily. Everything happened all at once and he couldn't understand anything anymore and he sobbed. He leaned against the wall beside him, tears falling down his face and his mouth became dry again.

That was when he noticed the bottle of water left beside him. It sat there, mocking him. He hated that bottle of water.

Victor didn't know what was worse – the thumping in his head from his headache, waiting for his father to return and just never knowing when he was going to, or waiting for the unknown.

At least he knew who was going to unlock the door next, but knowing it was his father caused him more fear than he had when he didn't know it was him.

The waiting felt like torture. He was staring at the same four walls for hours and Victor really didn't know how long he would be able to deal with that. If his father truly stuck to his words and kept him in that room, he wondered how long would he be able to manage before he went insane.

He didn't want to know the answer.

Before he knew it, he awoke to the sound of the padlock banging against the door again. He didn't even realize he fell asleep. His father had returned. He stepped through the door with a lot more ease this time round. Victor felt somewhat relieved by that. His father wasn't angry anymore – or maybe he was. He was never able to read his expression.

His tired eyes struggled to stay open as he glanced up at his father's face. He couldn't read the man's expression. It held no emotion, but it never really did. Victor's gaze then diverted to the tray of food in his hands. His father must be in a better mood after all. Victor knew he shouldn't have made him angry. It only increased the risk of him not getting any more food or water – which he still desperately needed. He just had to stay on his father's good side. That way, he could at least get two meals a day.

He hoped, anyway. It would give him some strength back.

The tape was once again cut off – His father's threats being repeated before he did. Victor came to the quick decision to not bite back. He needed to survive this, to get his strength back and find a way to get out of the hell he was in. He needed to get back, if not for himself, for everyone else.

He didn't want to die out here. He especially didn't want to die at his father's hands.

He was given soup this time. He was able to finish the water that was left behind before and he ate his soup that was fed to him, all in silence. He didn't dare speak. After the first time, he couldn't trust his words. His father now knew Yuuri was his weak point, he could easily use it against him. He knew he would defend Yuuri. He also knew Yuuri wouldn't appreciate it if it ended up being the reason he died.

He could never put Yuuri through that.

He had almost finished eating all of his soup when his father decided to speak. “A living legend, hey?” Victor already missed the silence. The somewhat kind grin on his father's face both scared and confused him. “Eleven years, Victor. Eleven years I've been keeping tracks on you. I even considered becoming a sponsor once.”

Victor swallowed hard. He wanted to be one of his sponsors? “Uh, I – Yeah.” He decided to ignore the second statement. “Yeah, I... I worked really hard for that title.”

His father hummed in response. Victor glanced down at the soup, noticing it to be almost empty. Only a couple more spoonful’s and he will be gone. Just a few more. He just wasn't moving. He wasn't -

“Do you think they would assume you're dead if you weren't found in a while?” Victor didn't know what to say. He stuttered over his words which wouldn't come out. His father smile was harsh. “I think they would. Once they do, I could have you living inside. I'd still have to keep you chained up, of course, but you'll be back home again. I still don't trust you. After you left, I don't think I can ever trust you not to leave me again.”

Victor made an impulsive decision in that moment. It was a risk, but he needed to see if it worked. He figured, if he agreed – Like his father said, he would just be chained up. He could fight, he could defend himself. “I'll stay,” He spoke, his voice now sounding clearer. “I-I want to stay, please.”

His father smiled wickedly. “Oh Victor, of course you don’t.”

Victor sucked in a breath, “W-what? No, I-”

“Even if you really, well and truly did want to stay with me, I would still not trust you.” His father then laughed darkly. “Only hours ago, you were begging me to let you go. Now, you want to stay. I know you fell asleep between then, you didn't even think about it until now. I don't think Yuuri would appreciate you lying to me, would he?”

“ _Don't._ ”

“I'm not an idiot, Victor,” His father continued. “Don't treat me like one.”

Victor breathed heavily. He realized it really wasn't worth the try after all. It only gave him more fuel to use Yuuri against him. Victor hated it. He thought about it more and he realized, even if he had gotten the chance to freely walk around his father's house, he wouldn't have the strength or energy to escape.

Victor drank the last bottle that was given to him before everything was placed back onto the tray. He was thankful he had a bigger meal this time, and more to drink. But the end result still remained the same – The duct tape being picked up and wrapped back over and around his mouth.

He really didn't want Victor to make a lot of noise. Did he have neighbors? He kept a mental note of that.

His father never said anything as he left the shed. Once again, Victor was left alone, only his own thoughts to keep him company.

_Day Three: Past_

Victor had a dream that night that he would much rather forget.

He had nothing but empty dreams his first night. It was only ever his fear and panic that caused him to wake up in the early hours of the morning. It was those dreamless nights that had him awaken with a fearful gasp only moments before tears started spilling down his face.

On those nights, he'd cry after he woke up. But on a night like that, he woke with tears already falling free.

His dream wasn't much different to his situation now. He was still trapped inside the shed, still with his hands tied behind his back. His legs had still been chained up and the tape was still wrapped over his mouth. However, early on in that dream, he knew he could speak, regardless of the tape. He didn't know how, he just could.

He remembered seeing his father and worst of all, he saw Yuuri. He saw Yuuri with his hands tied up too, his legs chained and his mouth forced shut by tape. He saw Yuuri in the exact same situation he was in. He remembered that being the moment he started crying in his dream.

He sat as he watched his father shout at Yuuri. He was shouting but Victor couldn't hear anything. It was as if his father lost his voice yet still tried to speak. He could see him yelling and screaming, his face turning red with anger, but it was Yuuri's face that really broke his heart.

He looked terrified. He was completely and utterly scared of his father, who continued to shout in his face. Victor didn't know what compelled him to yell at his father - whether it just his subconscious taking control or something needing to continue the dream - but he yelled something. He didn't know what he had said but it was enough for his father to turn back to Yuuri, to pull his hand back and smack Yuuri across the face.

Victor felt fully responsible for that. If he had kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't have caused his father to hurt Yuuri. He knew it was just in his dream – in his nightmare, and that Yuuri was fine and unhurt by that man, but he still couldn't stand it. The smack was so vivid in his mind, it was as if it actually happened. It seemed too real.

What felt even more real was when Yuuri's body went completely limp. The smack killed him. His father killed Yuuri - _he_ killed Yuuri. He couldn't believe it. He saw Yuuri die in his nightmare and it seemed just too real.

Why that part didn't wake him up, he didn't know.

“You killed me, Victor” Yuuri's voice spoke from his doll-like body. “You killed me. And now, I have to kill you.”

He saw his father turn, his face boiling with anger and his skin was red with fire. But Victor saw Yuuri's eyes on his father. His father became Yuuri. It didn't make sense. Why was Yuuri...?

It was that part that woke him up.

Victor couldn't make any sense of it; but at the same time, he tried hard not to. The memory of it was enough to continue his sobbing. He couldn't understand why his mind would come up with something like that – something so disturbing to him. He feared it ever actually happening. It was heartbreaking. He wanted to remember Yuuri but not like he had in his nightmare. He never wanted to remember Yuuri being dead in his nightmare, or of Yuuri becoming his father, of Yuuri being killed by his father – by him.

The smack he remembered too vividly. He knew how it felt to have his father's palm hit hard against his cheek. He would never want Yuuri to feel that too. It was so long ago and it only ever happened once, but he remembered it too well. And yet, he couldn't even remember what had caused it. He just remembered the harsh sting against his cheek.

His father never really did hurt him much as a child. If anything, it was rare that his father would cause him any harm. He had just liked to yell a lot. He yelled a lot and he liked everything to work in his favor.

He never used to worry much about what Victor did. It wasn't until he started skating that his father began to aim his anger towards him. His father never wanted him skating but Victor loved it too much to care. He didn't care if his father lied and tricked him into missing a lesson or calling his teacher at the time and coming up with a reason why Victor couldn't make it that day, Victor would always find a way back to the ice.

His teacher never suspected that his father manipulated the truth – that he was making Victor miss lessons. Even when Victor went for late night skating practice after his father said he was too ill to make it, they never suspected anything.

Skating soon became his life and it was his escape away from his father. His mother at times helped him get to classes but once his father found out, she stopped. He didn't blame her. He understood why.

He wanted to live his own life and his father wanted otherwise. He wanted control. Soon, he realized that making Victor miss practice wasn't stopping him. His yelling and his anger soon came to a stop. His approach to controlling him became new, something Victor couldn't completely fight against. He had to think about what he would say and what comment he would receive from his father. It became difficult for Victor. He felt like he was walking on egg shells.

His father's words became harsh questions. He stopped insulting the sport, stopped his anger towards Victor and instead, made Victor begin to doubt himself.

“I suppose you're going to go skate again. Like you usually do. Go ahead, I just don't understand how you could leave me and your mother alone.”

“Don't you think that you should get a haircut?”

“Shouldn't you maybe spend the day with your mother? You're always skating. If you care about her, you'd spend time with her.”

He liked to use his mother against him. He liked to make Victor feel guilty for doing anything. His words soon began to sting, much like being repetitively stung by a jellyfish. There is only so much of that a person can take before it drives them crazy.

He always assumed that was what killed his mother. He wasn't the only one who got accused and blamed. He controlled her just as much as he had Victor. It was a car crash that killed her. She hit a tree. Victor always had the suspicion that she did it on purpose. He knew she didn't have anything to escape to. She had no friends – thanks to him. She had no remaining family. She was alone and Victor could understand why she would have done it.

In a way, he saw it as a warning. If he didn't get out soon, he would probably end up the same as she had – no other way out, but only by his own hand.

He was twelve when she died. He planned to leave soon after.

It was around the time he started to grow out his hair. It was shoulder length when she died and he remembered her always saying how pretty his hair looked. He loved his hair. He loved the way it felt and the way it looked. He stood out and that was what he had wanted. He wanted to be remembered, to be recognized. He wanted his father to deal with Victor becoming his own person and not something he wanted Victor to be.

He never expected his father to one night, come stalking towards him with a pair of scissors in his hand.

He couldn't catch up with Victor. Victor ran straight out the front door and down his street as fast as he could. His hair was his identity; It was special to him. He wouldn't have his father take that away from him too.

He remembered coming back home at what was probably 3 AM. He crept into his room and barricaded his door with his plushies and pillows. He threw his duvet over it all and slept on the floor in front of it. His idea was that if his father were to sneak in with the scissors, he would wake up before the man could get inside.

He slept like that for over a year.

It was when he met Yakov that he found a way to escape. Once Victor knew Yakov was the only coach for him, he found the strength to ask him for help. He could trust Yakov. Victor trusted him enough to tell him how his father was. Yakov gave him a reason to have faith in him.

Victor could trust Yakov, unlike his father. Victor could never trust him.

He couldn't trust him back then, how could he now? How could he trust him to not lace his food with poisons, to slowly kill him over time? How could he trust him to not leave him there to rot; starving and thirsty. He didn't even let him out for a few minutes to fucking pee. How could he-

He wouldn't even let him outside... Not even for a minute.

… Did he have neighbors?

He had to. Victor remembered his mental note. It made some sense. If he were out in the woods, far away from anyone, why would his father even bother to keep him quiet? He even looked so terrified whenever he made even the littlest noise, so he had to be out where people could hear him.

He needed to check.

Victor's first attempt to try and look through the window failed. He couldn’t look up high enough to see past the blue sky. He then opted for plan B. It would be a struggle, but it wouldn't be impossible. He just had to be careful.

He used his hands to grip the pole as tight as he could. He needed to use it to keep both his balance and control. He ignored the pain in his wrists as he did so, it was the last worry on his mind. He leaned most of his body weight back, balancing his back against the pole as he slowly slid his body further up. He had to move slowly. He couldn't lose his balance. He dug his feet into the ground as he used it to push his weight further up against the pole.

He could only get so far. The chain only allowed his feet to get so close to his body and if he moved up any further, he would lose his balance. He couldn't stand up completely, he barely made it past a sitting position, but he got a higher look.

His eyes met with a new sight. He saw not only one garden fence separating his father's garden and his neighbors, but multiple. He could see a swing set in a distant garden and a tree in another. But more importantly, he could see the neighbors garden. It was full of colorful flowers and its grass was neatly cut. It meant somebody was living there - someone who regularly went into their garden, so it looked. Someone -

His hands then slipped from its grip holding onto the pole. His body fell to the side, slamming hard against the shed wall. The fall made him pull against the bonds around his wrists. It burned and stung and the pain that ran through his entire side caused his legs to give out. He fell back down, landing on the floor with a hard thump. He groaned in pain. His side hurt, his wrists burned and his legs ached. He hadn't used those muscles in three days, he should have been more careful.

But on one hand, he didn't care. There were people around him. There were people with family and friends, and somebody who could be the help he needed. Somebody who could save him!

He started to laugh. It could only come out as a throaty chuckle, but he didn't care about the sound. He was getting out of here. If nobody was coming to save him, he could save himself. He knew he could. He laughed harder. His father would hate him so much if he found a way to escape.

He couldn't wait. He just needed to come up with a plan - a way to get out.

He remembered back to yesterday when he screamed. Nobody must have heard him. He wasn't loud enough. He was thirsty at the time, so his voice could have sounded like anything. He just screamed. He didn't even yell for help. He should have. He felt like an idiot.

But now he had more strength. His voice was stronger. He was now able to yell louder than he would have yesterday. He just needed to keep himself both safe as he called for help, and well hydrated so he could yell louder. That meant no more crying. Maybe he could ask his father for more water?

He needed to do it when his neighbor was outside and when his father wasn't in the shed with him, or anywhere near where he could hear him. Of course, it would all be so much simpler if he could find a way to get the tape off his mouth.

Maybe he could rub it off? He moved his knees closer to his body, but again he could only move them so far. His knees barely came close to his chest. He moved his body forward, trying to bring his head down to his knees. His arms being tied behind the pole only allowed him to lean forward so far. His face was nowhere near his knees. He pulled at his legs and arms, praying for his body to move closer together but in the end, he only caused himself more pain.

He huffed in annoyance. Why couldn't he move any further; He should be a lot more flexible than that. He reminded himself to try again later. Maybe he was just lacking the flexibility due to him hardly moving for three days straight. He then glanced at the wall. It was a surface; a surface he could reach. It was better than nothing. He rubbed his face along the wall but the flat surface did nothing against the tape.

He had to find a way to get it off. He had to.

 

_Day Four: Absence_

On the first day, Yuuri could only blame himself for Victor going missing.

He knew he couldn't stop it, that he would never have seen it coming, but it didn't stop the guilt from clawing at his brain. It constantly reminded him that if he hadn't stayed in, it wouldn't have happened and Victor would still be here. Yuuri knew that he couldn't have possibly known this would happen but he couldn't stop himself from thinking otherwise.

Victor had told him that he didn't have to join him jogging that morning. It was Yuuri's day off but he still liked to out with Victor, sometimes even having Makkachin follow behind. Yuuri had said he wanted to join but Victor insisted otherwise, that as his coach and his lover, he deserved one day to do nothing.

“You've been working really hard, Yuuri,” Victor had told him, “You deserve to sleep in every now and then. We'll be up and ready tomorrow, yes?”

How things would have been different if he hadn't agreed.

He and Victor had the same morning routine. They'd both be up at 6 AM, on the dot. They'd dress, freshen up and have a small bite to eat by 6:30, then they'd jog the same route they took every morning for an hour and get back by 7:30 to take a shower and cook a proper breakfast. They were rarely any longer than that unless they both saw a dog, in which case they would take just a little bit longer.

That morning, Yuuri woke up to a goodbye kiss from Victor and a good morning slobber from Makkachin. He grumbled a goodbye to Victor before curling up to Makkachin as he fell back asleep. He ended up taking Victors advice in the end and turned off his alarm.

He woke up 4 hours later to an unusually quiet house. He couldn't hear Victor singing in the kitchen, or feel Victor's warm body lying next to him, waiting for Yuuri to wake up. There were practically no other signs of life in the home.

He felt uneasy. It wasn't like Victor to be this quiet.

Yuuri got up, changing into whatever he first picked up – which ended up being his jeans and Victors shirt – and searched their home. Every room was empty except for the kitchen where Makkachin patiently waited for Yuuri to feed him. That was when he first started to worry. Victor wouldn't forget to feed Makkachin.

Yuuri looked for Victor's gym clothes, finding they weren't in the wash. His shoes were neither by the door and nothing seemed to have been moved since last night. He didn't doubt that Victor hadn't been home yet.

Yuuri ran back to their room and checked his phone. He hoped for at least a text or a call from Victor and yet when he looked, there wasn't. He just had four texts from Yakov and eight texts and two missed calls from Yuri, both demanding where Victor was and why he wasn't answering his phone.

He hoped Victor just went out somewhere and forgot to tell anyone. He really hoped that was the case.

He first called Yakov. If anything, Victor would be with him. He still had practice today after all. Yuuri knew Yakov wouldn't appreciate him not turning up without an explanation. He answered after the first ring.

“Where the hell is Vitya and why hasn't he been answering his phone?!” He practically screamed down the phone. Yuuri didn't know what to say. “I've been trying to call him all morning and he hasn't been answering! What the hell is Vitya doing?!”

He struggled to find the right words. “He's... He went jogging. He hasn't been home yet.” Yakov then yelled more questions down the phone, questions which Yuuri couldn't answer. It was then that something inside Yuuri just kind of... snapped.

It was the first time he cried that day. He sobbed down the phone, telling Yakov that Victor went out and he hadn't been back home for hours. He spluttered out about his fear that Victor was hurt or taken, that if he wasn't with Yakov's, he wouldn't be anywhere else. He wouldn't skip practice without telling anyone. It wasn't like Victor. He just didn't know what to do.

Yakov told him to, first of all, calm down - Easier said than done. He then told him he would wait for an hour and if he still hadn't heard from Victor, he would call the police. Yuuri thanked him before reluctantly hanging up. He didn't want to be alone.

So he called Yuri next. He could tell by the texts from Yuri that he was just as angry as Yakov was about Victor's silence. He didn't want to be alone at this point. His thoughts would be everywhere, he wouldn't be able to think straight.

The moment Yuri answered the phone, the first thing he asked was “Where the hell is Victor?” In which Yuuri replied that he didn't know. Yuri then asked more questions and Yuuri tried to answer as many as he could. He really didn't know what to say anymore. There was only so much he could say – Yes, Victor wasn't here; No, he doesn't know where he is. Yes, Victor went jogging; No, he definitely hasn't been back yet. He could repeat it in his head over and over, and it still wouldn't make the explanation any easier.

Yuuri zoned out for a moment. He heard Yuri say something before hanging up. Yuri was probably heading over. He wouldn't expect him to sit around waiting and doing nothing. That just wasn't how Yuri was.

Unlike Yuuri.

He didn’t know what to do now. He called Yakov and Yuri. He couldn't call the police – Yakov was already on that. He saw there being no point in trying to call Victor. If he didn't answer to Yakov or Yuri, he wouldn't answer to him. Victor was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know what he could do to possibly help him.

All Yuuri wanted to do was to find Victor. He wanted Victor back home, for him to just walk through the door and apologize for disappearing without telling anyone. He wouldn't be mad, he would just be happy that Victor was home.

But of course, at this point, it seemed like a miracle if Victor had done that. As much as Victor was good at surprising people, it seemed too good to be true.

His eyes met the glow of his ring. He held it close to his heart.

When did he put his shoes on? He couldn't remember getting up. He then reached for the front door, swinging it open. A gust of wind blew through his hair, the cold biting against his skin. He shivered but he ignored the cold as he took a step outside. He let his feet do the thinking. His mind, it wasn't in a good state.

It took Yuuri a while to realize he was walking his and Victor's jogging route. It was when he took a turning to go through the park that he realized what he was doing. Yuuri had to get himself together. He took that moment to stop and sit down on a park bench and just think for a moment.

He wouldn't know what he would do if they never found Victor. It had only been 5 hours – now 6. Victor could be anywhere doing anything, but he didn't answer any calls, texts. His phone wasn't at home. He wasn't at home. It all pointed to Victor just... being missing. He didn't know what he would do if they never found him. Would he go back home? Would he stay in Russia and just pray that one day Victor would walk back through their front door?

It was too early to think of that, but he couldn't help but ponder the possibility.

His mind started to come up with absurd reasons for Victor's disappearance. He knew they were completely stupid and illogical, but he still worried about them none the less. One was that Victor left him for another lover. It was one of his fears. Somewhere in his mind, he told himself it was ridiculous. Another part told him he was stupid for not realizing this sooner.

He wished his head would shut up sometimes.

It was no less than 5 minutes later that he got sick of his own anxious worries that he needed to leave. He was getting to the point of panic and the last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack in the middle of a park. His breathing was heavier now and his palms felt clammy. He needed a distraction.

He ended up running home. The burn in his legs was enough to distract his mind long enough to calm himself down.

He saw a body sat by his front door and his mind first went to Victor. For a moment, he thought it was Victor, his heart raced in a hopeful beat and he almost started to cry again, but when he got closer and noticed the blond hair of Yuri, sorrow washed through him.

He was glad Yuri was there. He just wished Victor was there too.

The second Yuri laid his eyes on Yuuri, he was up on his feet, “Where did you go? Did you find him?” Yuri took the assumption he was looking for Victor. He wasn't going to tell Yuri what he was actually doing.

Yuuri sighed heavily, shaking his head. Yuri looked equally disappointed. Yuuri unlocked the door, allowing the two to step inside. Yuri seemed to be there for a few reasons; support and answers. Yuuri needed it too.

“When did you last see him?” Yuri asked as the two sat down at in the kitchen.

Yuuri thought for a moment, “Six this morning. He left to jog.”

Yuri hummed. “And he hasn't been back yet?” Yuuri shook his head. “And there's nothing to prove that he's even been back?”

Yuuri repeated his action. “It's been six hours now.” He then glanced at the clock. “Make it seven.”

Yuri huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms, “So you and I both know he's missing. Please, be the responsible god damn adult and call the fucking cops.”

He couldn't. “Yakov's already ahead of you on that.” He paused for a moment. “And even if I had to, I couldn't. The language barrier. I'm still struggling.”

Yuri couldn't really be annoyed anymore. He too knew there was only so much they could actually do. They couldn't go looking for Victor, they wouldn't know where to start nor would they know where to look. All they could do was wait.

Yuuri hated waiting.

Both their phones started going off from texts from friends and family asking why Victor wasn't answering their calls or texts. They decided to not tell anyone yet. At least not until the police were involved. They wanted to avoid more worry.

A while later Yakov arrived in a rush. He burst through the door with his phone in hand and nothing more. He met eyes with the two and neither expected to receive a hug from him. They took comfort in the support.

Yuuri could only guess how Yakov was coping through this. To him, it must have been like losing his son. Yuuri knew how much Victor looked up to Yakov as a father figure. And Yakov must've seen Victor like a son.

“So, what did the police say?” Yuri was the first to break the silence. “Can they do anything? Please tell me they can.”

“They need to ask us some questions before they can begin the search” Yakov explained. He then sighed heavily. “But I don't know how many people they need to speak to. It could take an hour or over a day before they begin but-”

Yuri interrupted him, “Wait, hang on,” He said, “Why can't they just start the search now? They should know that if you say Victor Nikiforov is missing, he's fucking missing! If we wait any longer he could end up in another god damn country. He could be hurt or dea-.” He stopped himself. None of them could even think of that. Not yet.

“They need our statements first. It's just how it is Yura.”

Yuri sighed in defeat. He knew he couldn't do much else, no matter how bad he wanted to. In the meantime, all they could do was wait for the police to arrive and see how long it would take for them to begin the search.

It seemed all they did was wait.

The police arrived not long after. The sight of them coming through the door made the situation feel a lot more real. Yuuri felt as if they were finally getting somewhere but with Victor still nowhere to be found, his worry continued to remain. He kept telling himself that things should start looking up now, that Victor would be found soon and come back home safe. He had to keep telling himself that. He needed to be strong enough to tell the police as much as possible.

He didn't want to cry anymore. He felt so emotionally drained. He missed Victor too much. He just wanted him home. He just wanted to see his face, to touch him again and never let him go. There was so much going on inside is mind, when the police started to ask him questions, he struggled to answer a few.

They couldn't speak either English or Japanese. He had to have Yuri and Yakov translate. He answered the basic questions he's already answered that day. He knew what time he was last seen. He knew what he was doing and where he was going. He kind of knew what he was wearing, but he wasn't completely sure. It was when they asked Yuuri if Victor had any enemies or obsessed fans that he struggled. He didn't know what was relevant enough to mention and if something wasn't worth mentioning. He didn't want to waste any more time and the pressure made him panic.

Yakov answered most of those questions in the end. He would know more than Yuuri if Victor had any enemies. Yuuri was thankful he was there. His support and calm manner gave him a sense of security and ease, even if he did scare him a bit.

They then asked if there was a possibility of him going somewhere else, but all three knew he would have come home by now. Yuri had laughed when they asked if Victor left Yuuri for another person. Yuri stated that Victor was too in love and too selfish to leave. When Yakov translated that to Yuuri, he gave a small smile.

More questions were asked but Yuuri stopped listening after a while. They had mostly finished asking Yuuri questions anyway. He couldn't even listen if he wanted to. He could only pick out a few words he knew but his mind kept on getting distracted. He stared out the window, eyes roaming the city. Victor was out there somewhere. He was out there waiting for someone to find him, to come and help him. Yuuri felt so powerless. He hated it. He hated feeling this way. He couldn't do anything and all he wanted to do was find Victor.

The police asked if they wanted to make a public announcement, stating Victor's disappearance. Yakov agreed. He knew people would find out soon anyway. He said it felt pointless postponing it. Yuri said yes. He wanted everyone to know. He hoped somebody might have seen something. Yuuri couldn't say no. They were right. It seemed like the best step to take.

And it seemed the police were ready to start the search. Yuuri felt thankful they didn't waste any time.

While they waited to be interviewed, Yuuri called his parents. He had to tell them himself. They both tried to hide their tears, but he could hear it in their voices. But talking to them had helped calm his nerves.

News crew and journalists crowded around the house not long after. It was going to be a live interview – Him, Yakov, and Yuri talking about Victor's disappearance, asking for help if anyone had any. They all hoped somebody had.

Yakov took control of the interview. He made it clear Victor was missing, that he had been gone most of the day without a trace. Yuri then spoke up, making a clear threat to whoever took him. Yuri started to get angrier than usual. Yakov's firm hand on his shoulder was a silent request for him to calm down. He stopped himself, the sudden fear that he could have done worse than good.

Yuuri couldn't finish anything he wanted to say. When they asked how he felt that his fiancé was missing, he struggled to get anything else out. All he could mumble through his tears were the words, “I just want him back.” He turned away, hiding his face, and leaving the interview for Yakov and Yuri.

He locked himself in the bathroom and cried. He didn't think he'd find himself crying in a bathroom again, yet here he was. He needed to be alone for some time and with him being safely locked in the room, nobody could disturb him.

Nobody could unless it was Yuri pounding at the door.

“Oi, Katsudon!” Yuri yelled, knocking at the door. “I thought you were over crying in bathrooms.” Yuuri sighed before getting up and opening the door. He could see Yuri's face full of anger. “This isn't going to help find Victor, you know.”

Yuuri didn't think much about what he said next. He stared at Yuri with a blank glare before spitting back, “What else am I able to do? Find him? Sure. Let me just go back and stop him from leaving this morning. Oh wait, I can't.”

Yuri huffed, crossing his arms, “You're not the only one missing him, you know. Crying isn't going to do anything to help!”

“Neither is us just waiting and yet we're doing a lot of that.”

The look in Yuri's eyes read both disappointment and anger. Yuri yelled something back but Yuuri didn't listen. He then spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Yuuri stayed on the spot.

The sight of Yakov appearing from the kitchen almost startled him. “You're both right.” He began, his voice somewhat gentle. “But you're also both idiots. You're just as emotional as each other. Talk about it tomorrow when you've both had more sleep. I don't need you two arguing. I don't need that kind of stress right now.” He then left too, leaving Yuuri alone again.

Yakov was right, but for now, he just wanted to be alone.

Yuuri barely slept on the second day. He never really fell asleep until the sun began to rise and even then, the light shining through the curtains began to annoy him, but he somehow got a few hours of sleep in.

He was awoken by a few new voices in the house. He left his room to find the rest of team Russia had joined them. The faces of Mila, Georgi and others who regularly skated at the rink were there. They had heard the news. They each showed their individual love and support, which Yuuri found rather heart-warming.

It was nice having the people there. It kept Yuuri's mind busy, but one thing he couldn't stop the constant reminder of was to check his ring. He couldn't dare look away. It was as if it would disappear too if he took his eyes off it for too long.

He noticed Yuri hadn't joined the rest of the group. Yuuri felt responsible for that. Yakov was right, they were too emotional yesterday. He couldn't go talking to him now, not with the house full of people.

They all left quite late in the evening. Yuuri had waited for them all to leave. He needed to talk to Yuri. Eventually, all who remained was Yakov, Yuri and himself.

He stood in front of the guest bedroom. His nerves beginning to kick in again. He knew Yuri would be inside. It was the room he stayed in if he ever stayed over. Yuuri raised a hand, ready to knock. He hadn't noticed how much his hand was shaking.

His gold band gleamed in the light, catching his attention. It was his reminder of Victor. His reminder of his current absence. He brought the ring to his mouth. The cold metal kissed his lips with the lightest touch. Even without Victor being present, he still found a way to help Yuuri keep calm.

He knocked softly on the door. He received no response. He sighed. “Yurio, I want to talk.”

Shuffling was heard followed by a hushed swear. The door then swung open with force it took Yuuri by surprise, but so did Yuri's appearance.

He looked just as, if not more tired than Yuuri. His hair was a mess and he wore the same clothes he wore yesterday. His eyes were puffy from crying. In short, he looked like death. Then, Yuuri's mind pieced everything together.

He'd been so selfish.

He finally understood what Yuri was trying to get across. Yuuri wasn't the only one going through so much with Victor's disappearance. He wasn't the only one who was affected by it. He wasn't the only one who was missing Victor.

He hadn't noticed the way Yakov hadn't slept either. Nor did he notice that he hadn't seemed to have eaten anything since his arrival. He didn't notice how close to tears he was when he first walked through the door and how he only kept himself together for the sake of himself and Yuri.

And Yuri... Yuri was just as worried and scared for Victor as he was. He could see it. He saw it in the way Yuri acted, the way Yuri looked. He hadn't realized. He didn't notice.

Even Makkachin was missing Victor. She whined most of the day. She didn't want to play with any of her toys anymore. He didn't even realize Victors own dog was missing him.

He felt like such an idiot. A stupid, selfish idiot.

Yuri didn't get enough time to say anything before Yuuri had him in a tight hug. The sudden action took Yuri by surprise. Yuuri then felt the hug being returned. The two knew – even without words – that they both forgave and supported each other.

“It's all my fault,” Yuuri muttered out through some tears that started to fall. “If- If I hadn't... If I didn't agree to take a day's rest, Victor would... He would-”

“Oh, shut up,” Yuri then sighed and released the hug. Yuuri saw his eyes glazed with tears which were forced back. “It's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself.”

Yuuri wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand, “I wish it was that easy,” He sniffed. “I just... I can't stop thinking-”

“Yuuri, they'll find him. Victor can be an idiot, but he's tough,” Yuri said. “He'll make it through.”

Yuuri didn't know how to respond. He wanted to believe they'd find Victor, but everything felt as if it came to a stop. Instead, he did what he originally wanted to do. “Yuri, I'm sorry.”

Yuri swallowed hard, “I'm not sorry for what I said, but I am sorry for how I said it.”

Yuuri smiled weakly. “But you're right, crying isn't going to find Victor. I'm glad you told me. Victor wouldn't want me sitting around and crying over him. He wouldn't want to see any of us do that.”

Yuri nodded, crossing his arms. “I'm glad you listened to me. Now go have a nap or something, you look like shit. And all this sappy stuff is starting to annoy me.” He waved his hand, motioning at Yuuri to leave. “Go! You need to sleep.”

Yuuri took a step back, a small laugh escaped his lips. “And by the look of you, you need it too.”

He turned to leave as he heard Yuri yell, “I'm not that tired!” before he heard the door shut with a soft click.

On the third day, thanks to Yuri, Yuuri felt as if he got a bit more sleep.

He was still completely knocked out with exhaustion but he felt a little more awake than he had yesterday – more alert than before. He found waking up to one side of the bed being cold was something he didn't want to keep waking up to.

But he had Makkachin who kept him some company in the night. She had started sleeping on Victor's pillow, as did Yuuri.

The day slowly went by. Yakov kept his eye on the two. He noted that they had solved the problem they had but he didn't mention it. He made sure they all ate and drank enough, and that they kept themselves clean. The day just went by. They heard nothing new about the search. Victor still remained missing. Yet, they each felt they were handling things a little better.

It was around 6 PM when Yakov got a call. They hadn't found him, but they did find something. They found his phone and headphones.

The news felt hopeful. It was another step in finding Victor. The past two days, Yuuri felt like they were stuck at the same spot, making no progress in finding Victor. But now, they had something to go by.

He wasn't sure what they could do now they found Victor's phone but it was better than nothing.

A couple hours later, Yakov received another call. It was more good news. With the place Victor had been taken, a house across from where the phone was found had security cameras. They were easy to access. The owner of the house was happy to let them see the video footage. It made things progress a lot quicker.

Yakov told Yuuri the news first by himself, then Yuri, and then the rest of the team. Yuuri forced back his tears when he heard. It was both a relief and absolute agony too. It proved he was kidnapped and there was so much they could go by from just that one footage of him being taken. It was the best news he had heard in a while. The only downside was, whoever took him kept their identity hidden.

The kidnapper hid his identity with a ski mask and an unmarked car.

The police told them they couldn't trace the car. It was either stolen or the kidnapper's own car, but it had no license plate and nothing that could allow them to find out who the car belonged to. The mask hid his identity was only enough to hide their face. They could tell that it was a male.

They then mentioned how Victor was taken. The kidnapper took him by surprise. He grabbed him from behind and used something strong enough to knock him out. He was then dumped in the trunk of the kidnapper's car and he was gone.

And it was all done in under two minutes.

Yuuri felt his blood boil as rage build up. The more he heard about it, the angrier he got. The man didn't care about Victor. The man gave no remorse when he took him. Whoever it was, Yuuri hoped that the man would pay for what he had done.

It wasn't until the morning on the fourth day that it was released how Victor went missing. The case became an almost top priority.

It was only a matter of time and more clues that would lead Victor to be found.

They hoped, anyway.

~

Victor woke up to cold water being dumped over him.

He gasped at the sudden shock but the tape stopped him from being able to. He had to breathe through his nose, but it resulted in him breathing in the water and he began to cough and choke.

His father groaned in complaint as he ripped off the tape. Victor gasped and spluttered, breathing heavily as he tried catching his breath. The chill from the cold water made him shiver and his nose burned, making him feel uncomfortable.

His father waited for him to catch his breath before he pulled the rest of the tape away. “You started to smell,” He said.

Victor let out a harsh laugh. “No shit. I've been stuck here for three days straight.” He eyed his father cautiously as he watched him move away and place a small white box to the floor. It was attached to a power outlet. “What's that?”

A few buttons were pressed and warm air suddenly filled the room. Victor realized it was a heater. “A heater. Since you'll be cold for a while, I wanted to warm the room up while you dried,” His father motioned to the heater then faced Victor, “And it's four days, actually.”

He didn't realize he lost count of the days. He knew it was around three, four days, but he wasn't too sure. Victor looked over at his father. He saw the usual tray of food and water he brought in twice a day. Victor eyed the water. He needed it more than anything.

His plan was all thought out in his head. He ran through so many different scenarios that he almost started to believe it was going to happen. He kept having to remind himself that it wasn't a definite thing, that it was just something he hoped would happen, but it gave him hope. He needed hope.

His father fed him first. It was the same thing he had every morning since he woke up here – two slices of plain toast. He let his father feed him, biting the toast as it came close to his mouth. He wanted to get through it as quick as he could, but he didn't want to seem too obvious he had a plan.

He worried about it. He knew it was absurd that him eating quicker would give away his plan, yet he still worried his father would somehow figure it out. He was over thinking it too much. He couldn't afford to overthink. It would end up giving something away.

He told himself to calm down. He would finish eating eventually and he would get his water regardless of how quick he ate. He slowed down very slightly, but he was still overthinking. Once the toast was finished, he drank the bottle of water. When it was empty, his father put everything back on the tray before reaching for the roll of tape. Victor panicked for a moment. He needed to speak, and quick.

A strip was pulled away just as Victor stuttered, “W-wait!” His father paused in his movement. “I was... I was just wondering if I could have more water?”

The silence that followed terrified Victor. He didn't even think if his father trusted him enough to give him an extra bottle. He didn't know if he had to earn it. Was he even at the point where he could ask for water without there being a consequence?

His father then huffed out a small laugh, “Not now. I'll bring some more water tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Victor sighed thankfully and nodded. He didn't even struggle as the tape was wrapped back over his mouth. He wanted to show some appreciation, make his father think that he was slowly becoming accustomed to this life. He wasn't, but what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

His father sat in his chair as he remained in the room for a little while. He noticed Victor's questionable stare. “I'm only staying until I know you're dry enough. I don't want to be nursing you back to health because you got a damn cold.” Victor wanted to tell him he shouldn't have thrown cold water over him, but at least the thought behind it was somewhat nice. He wouldn't want a cold either, especially in the state he was in.

However, his father just sitting there and staring at him was making him feel really uncomfortable. He didn't know where to look. He just felt his father's eyes on him, glaring at him. He didn't want to think about his escape. He still feared his father would find out, that he would work it all out just by staring at him long enough that it would all come together.

He still knew it was silly to think that but it didn't stop him from worrying.

“They know you've been kidnapped.”

His father's voice made him jump. He stared back at him, eyes wide with shock. He hadn't mentioned the outside world since his first appearance. They knew he was missing. They knew he had been taken by somebody. “Mmh!” He couldn't help but make a pleased noise at the news. It was a pathetic attempt at sounding happy, but it was something.

Then he realized he shouldn't have done that.

“I wouldn't be so happy if I were you,” He father spoke darkly. “They don't know who took you. They don't know where you are. Come on, Victor. Do you really think they would be able to find you here, sat alone in this shed?”

Victor thought about it for a moment. He knew he shouldn't listen to his father's words but it did seem too good to be true. From what he knew, they just knew he was taken. He didn't know if they had any clues to who took him or where he was. If Victor didn't have his plan, he probably would have cried again.

But he was hopeful, and that was something his father couldn't take away yet.

He kept his head bowed in hopes that his father didn't see the glimmer of hope that still remained in his eyes. His father chuckled at the sight, “That's right. You'll gradually start to learn.” His father then turned off the heater, unplugging it and picking it up. “I think that's enough for now. I will be back later.”

Victor watched him leave the shed. He waited for the padlock to lock, then the footsteps to become distant before hearing the silence, all before he expressed his true emotion.

He felt giddy and excited. He hadn't felt this in a while. He could tell it wouldn't be long until he was getting out of here. With the police now knowing he was definitely kidnapped, they would keep the search going for longer. And he had his plan. It all seemed... it all seemed so hopeful.

He wanted to keep that feeling for as long as he could. Even if his plan failed, he had another thing to rely on now.

 

_Day Five: Faith_

Everybody was staring at him.

Why were they staring?

Victor was still sat in that dull shed, still unable to move from the same spot he'd been in for five days. He stared up at the figures in front of him. He was looking at the faces of everyone he loved - everyone he missed. He saw Yakov, Yuuri, Yuri, Chris, he even saw a few who he never considered close friends. Anyone who meant something to him, they were all there.

Victor didn't understand. Why were they all here? They didn't move, speak, or even blink. They just stood in silence and watched him. Their eyes were glazed over, their icy stares glaring his way. He wanted to feel comfort in their presence. He wanted them to help him and bring him home. They never moved. They only watched as he struggled.

This wasn't fair.

Victor glanced at each one, mutely begging for one of them to make a move. They all remained as statues, unmoving and uncaring. Why weren't they helping him? He wanted to yell, to scream at them to just do something but the tape forced his pleas silent. He hated this. He hated it!

He didn't want to cry anymore. He didn't want to feel the ache in his heart. He didn't want to be terrified that the day might be his last, or that he would never see the outside world again. He wanted to go home. He wanted to hear his skates glide along the ice. He wanted to remember the way Yuuri felt, the way Yakov cared for him, the way Yuri would yell over silly little things. He wanted his life back.

He just wanted one of them to fucking move!

A loud thump against the door startled him awake. The sound forced him back into reality, making his nightmare end. He scanned the room, finding it just as empty as before. Victor breathed heavily. It was just a dream – just a horrible, frightful dream.

His eyes couldn't hold back the tears and he just let them flow down his face. He didn't have the energy to stop them anymore. He sniffed and his eyes squeezed shut. He knew who was unlocking the door. He didn't want to look at him.

It was the same ordeal every morning. He'd get the same empty glares from his father - the same feeling of terror in the pit of his stomach.

“You could at least look a little happier,” His father complained the moment his eyes met him. Victor kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to look at him. “I got you another bottle of water like you asked.”

He slowly peeled one eye open. His father was right, sat on the tray were two bottles of water like he promised. He almost forgot about his plan because of the nightmare. He hadn't realized how much it had affected him. That nightmare crushed his once hopeful, excited feeling. It was the feeling of being found but not helped that caused him to start shaking. He didn't think something like that would have him forget what last ounce of faith he had left.

His father sat down in front of him and placed the tray to his side. “I think you'll be able to handle an extra bottle today,” He explained as he cut off the tape, pulling it until it was completely pulled off his head. Victor felt his lips crack and he could suddenly taste of copper. He licked his sore lips, trying to stop them from bleeding.

As he watched his father pull the tape away, Victor noticed some stray hairs on it. His heart raced. He hoped to God he didn't have a lot of hair ripped out. “I also put some jam on your toast,” His father suddenly spoke, “It's strawberry. I remember you used to like it.”

He didn't like it anymore but Victor wasn't going to turn it down. The thought of having something with flavor to it made his stomach grumble. He hadn't had something sweet tasting since he was taken. What was that, five days now?

His father picked up the first bottle of water, placing it to Victor's lips and allowed him to drink. He spilled a little down his chin, it rolled down his shirt. His instant reaction was to wipe it away but he forgot about the rope that bound his wrists together. He pulled away from the bottle, hissing in pain. His wrists stung.

His father noticed him wince in pain. He eyed him curiously, unsure what caused the reaction. “Where do you hurt?” He asked, his voice sounding somewhat sincere. The question caught Victor off guard.

He hesitated to answer, “U-um, my... My wrists.”

His father moved forward, peering over his shoulder to look at his wrists. Victor heard him tut in annoyance, “No wonder.” He moved back, “You've rubbed them raw. They're bleeding.”

Victor didn't realize he hurt them that bad. His father sighed heavily, picking up the bottle he didn't finish and returning it for Victor to finish. “I'll bring in some bandages later. I don't want it getting infected.”

Confusion struck him but he decided to not press any further. It just felt strange. His father's behavior was different. He was being usually kind today. Victor finished the drink, now ready to eat. His father, however, made no move to feed him the food. Victor met his eyes.

“What's bothering you, Victor?” His father then asked. Victor blinked at the question. “Something bothered you this morning. I'd like to know what's wrong.”

His brow furrowed together. He didn't trust his father's random act of kindness. It was unusual for him to act this way. He'd been so cold and blunt, yet today he started showing kindness and gentleness. Victor didn't know what to tell him. “I- What? Why are you – Why do you care?”

He cocked his head to the side, a brow rose. “You are my son after all. If something is bothering you, I would like to know.”

Victor knew not to ask any more questions. His father seemed to be on good terms with him today. He didn't want to make his mood flip. His 'kind' mood was a lot easier to deal with than any other. Victor thought back to the dream, unsure if it would be appropriate to mention.

“It was just... Just a bad dream.” Victor spoke in a low voice. He felt embarrassed, admitting that a bad dream made him cry.

His father hummed. “And what happened in your bad dream?”

Victor met his eyes. He could never read his father's expressions. He thought about the dream, unsure if he should tell the full truth or twist things a little. He couldn't read his expression, he couldn't tell what the consequence could be. He decided in the end, to tell the truth. The dream didn't seem like it would annoy him in a way. At least, he hoped.

“I just... I dreamed I saw everyone,” Victor began. “It was everyone who I cared about. They were here but they were just standing here, staring at me. They didn't say anything or do anything. They just watched me.”

His father didn't say anything for a moment. Victor hesitatingly glanced up, seeing again, no emotion to his expression. He couldn't tell what his father was feeling.

Then, his father finally said, “This is why I took you away from them.”

“Huh?”

His father shook his head and sighed, “They don't care about you. I think you're finally starting to realize that. You're dreaming of them not doing anything and they're not. They don't care that you're missing,” He then picked a slice of toast, “You're starting to learn that living here is for the best, Victor. I'm so happy with this progress.”

Victor glanced between the toast and his father. He was wrong. He knew they all cared about him. He did. If they didn't, they wouldn't be trying to find him. He knew even if his kidnapping never happened, they cared about him. The dream just didn't make sense. It was a nightmare, it wouldn't. It was his fears that made him dream of it, not his acceptance for living with his father.

His father was too delusional to see past that. He knew his father – once he had an idea in his head, he wouldn't think otherwise. He was horribly stubborn. Victor wanted to argue back but his fear stopped him. He chose to keep the facade going. His father was happy and if his father was happy, his life would be somewhat easier. He didn't reply, but instead, he accepted the toast his father gave him. It was a silent agreement. It made his father smile.

His younger self would have hated him for giving his father what he wanted. However, his younger self wasn't in this life or death situation. He just needed to keep his mouth shut and nod. It kept his father happy and it kept him unharmed.

He ate the toast in silence. He didn't find the effort to complain about the jam that sat on top. He was just pleased he was getting more taste on his food, even if it was something that almost made him gag with every bite. Once he munched through it all, his father raised the second bottle of water.

“Are you okay to drink another?” Victor nodded and his father unscrewed the lid and allowed Victor to drink at his own pace.

He finished the water in his own time. He didn't feel the need to rush it. He wasn't desperate for water like he was on his first day here, but it was nice knowing he would stay hydrated for most of the day. The bottle then emptied and his father placed it on the tray with the other empty bottle.

He turned to Victor. He had words to say but Victor could see he struggled. “I've been thinking...” His father began. There was a long pause. “It's still early, and I still don't trust you, but I think in a week's time, you might be ready to be moved inside.”

Victor blinked hard at the news. “I-What?”

His father nodded. “I can see you're finding it easier to deal with your new life. You've been crying less, you've been good and followed my orders. You're dream also proved to me that you know nobody cares about you but me. I think you'll be ready.”

Victor wanted to say no, but he didn't want to stay in the shed any longer. It was too dull, too boring. His days felt like years and his body ached more than any fall on the ice. He wondered about the freedom he'd have inside his father's home.

He also remembered his plan. He didn't have one for the house. He needed to know his plan had a possibility of happening and being sat inside his father's house wouldn't allow it to. He couldn't say no. His father wouldn't accept it as an answer.

At least he had a week to try his plan.

“Okay.” Victor swallowed hard. “I think I would like that.”

His acting skill was getting better. His father bought it this time. The smile he had on his face was wide, something he hadn't seen his father do in almost forever. He wasn't even certain his father could smile happily until now.

Regardless of his happiness, he still did the same procedure that always happened before he left. The duct tape over his mouth was still a must need apparently. A strip was pulled from the roll and wrapped around Victor's head yet again. Again, Victor allowed him to do so with no fight. He noticed this time it wasn't as tight as usual. He assumed his father was being generous.

He never says anything as he leaves. The door shuts, the padlock is locked and he was gone, leaving Victor alone yet again.

When Victor felt certain he was in the clearing, he made an attempt in getting the tape off. He wasn't going to get it off completely, he just wanted to see if it moved. He moved his head to the wall and gave an experimental rub against the wall. The side of his face slid across the wood and he willed the tape to move. For it being looser than usual, it still remained in place. He had to think of another way to remove it.

He wouldn't do that yet. He just needed to see if it would move. He didn't want to pull it off completely. His father wouldn't like that.

Victor sat in silence, waiting. He had been waiting for a few days now. He needed his plan to work soon before he was moved into the house. He prayed that his neighbor would go out in the garden, to make their presence known. He just needed to hear someone from next door, so Victor could call for help.

However, it occurred to Victor that maybe the neighbor had already been outside before. Maybe they were quiet and liked to sit down and just relax. Maybe his neighbor didn't go into the garden at all, but the cleanliness of it made him doubt that thought. He knew they had to have gone outside quite regularly. It seemed they cared about their garden enough to do so.

He wondered if they were in fact just quiet. He hated wondering how many times they had gone outside and Victor didn't know. They could be in the garden right now. He couldn't do anything unless he was sure. He couldn't risk the neighbor not being outside and his father hearing him try and find an escape.

His father had to have had a job, right? He said it himself that he had a house. He had to have money to afford to live in there, which meant he had to have had a job. Unless he was retired? He didn't even know how old his father was. He had to have had a life outside of Victor.

But if his neighbor was outside... Victor had to be sure he was ready to take the risk.

He wasn't ready yet. He had to know for certain. He didn't want to ruin the kinder treatment he was receiving. Victor figured he could check every now and then if the neighbor was in the garden or not, but he worried about that. He couldn't keep constantly pushing himself against the pole. His legs were weak and his wrists would become more cut and bruised.

He had to think back to when he was young. His father did have a job back then, so if he still worked, he wouldn't work weekends, right? He was sure his father wasn't the type of person to want to work a weekend. He then thought, what day was he taken? He remembered it being Friday or a Saturday, meaning today had to be either Wednesday or Thursday - Midweek.

Fuck, he didn't even think if the neighbor worked too. There were so many what ifs and buts. He needed to be certain. He couldn't risk anything unless he was certain yet at the same time, he desperately wanted to take the risk.

He decided, in the end, to wait until midday. He would check if anyone was outside, and if nobody were, he'd wait what he would assume would be an hour and check again. It was the safest way he could check without pushing his weakened muscles too much. He didn't mind hurting his wrists some more in the process. His father was going to clean them up later anyway, so it didn't seem to matter if he hurt them more.

Waiting felt like a trip through hell. He was constantly checking if the sun was high enough yet, constantly doubting if it was midday or too early or too late. He realized that for the first time in days, he remained awake for most of the day. He always just slept in between his father's visits. It was the only interesting thing he could do.

He decided he was just going to check when it got to the point that he felt he would go crazy if he waited any longer. He thought, fuck it, he had to look. He gripped the pole with tighter hands this time and moved his legs to his body as close as he could. He slid up the pole on his back, stretched his neck and glanced through the window.

He peered through, seeing no signs of life in the garden next door. He saw a couple of kids playing on the swing set in the distant. He wanted to smile. The signs of life outside the shed made his heart flutter with faith. It just felt like himself and his father. The days had been so quiet.

He wanted to call for help but the kids were too far away. He couldn't even hear their laughter.

He fell back down to the floor. The muscles in his legs felt like they had been pulled and they ached. It was such a strange sensation. He was an athlete and yet his legs hurt just from that? He probably wouldn't be able to walk if he had the chance. He had never felt this weak before.

He let his legs rest before he tried again. It took longer than expected. He would have said it took an hour, but with how weird time went when you couldn't see a clock, it was probably just ten minutes. He ended up counting the seconds in his mind. At least then it kept him occupied.

He got sick of that after six minutes.

He decided to start humming a few songs he knew would help pass the time. He remembered how long they were. He summed up how many songs he had to hum for it to be an hour before he began.

It was far more entertaining than counting. For a few songs he forgot the lyrics, and another he couldn't remember what song he chose, he ended up improvising in the end. The hour still felt like it lasted days, but it was a lot more bearable than doing nothing or counting.

He then knew it was time to check again when he finished humming the last song. He resumed position – legs bent and hands gripping the pole and pushed himself up against it. He saw the garden yet again, it's flowers still in bloom and its green grass and-

He sucked in a breath. He could see someone in the garden. He could see who he assumed was the neighbor. His heart raced and he felt a buzz. In his excitement, he fell to the floor with a thump. He breathed heavily and his eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe it. Somebody was next door. It was somebody who was close enough to hear him – somebody who could help him.

He had to get the tape off!

He attempted the wall again. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He needed to get the tape off before they went back inside. He didn't want to miss them. He couldn't miss them. He tried as quick as he could to remove the tape but as usual, the wall did nothing in his favor. He wasn't even sure why he tried using the wall again. He knew it wouldn't help.

He tried using his own mouth next. He wiggled his mouth and felt the tape coming loose from his torn lips, but it remained stuck to his cheeks. He opened his mouth and bit into the tape, hoping he could at least bite it to get it loose or pull it off. It didn't work. He pushed it out of his mouth using his tongue. The tape now wet with his spit. He couldn't get it off, but it was now too wet to stick back to his mouth. As long as he could open his mouth, he could call for help.

He moved back up the pole. He sighed in relief when saw the neighbor again. It was a little old looking lady. He could only tell from her hair and her posture. She was facing away from Victor so he had to rely on his voice to get her attention. He watched her for a moment. She had a watering can in her hands and she watered her plants.

He breathed heavily and swallowed hard. He didn't realize how scared he was to shout. He feared his father would hear before she would notice him, but even if his father did come racing outside to shut him up, she should notice him walking to the shed, then notice Victor.

He had to try. He had to get out of here. “H-Help!” He called as loud as he could. The tape was annoying over his mouth, but he didn't care as long as he could still speak. “Help me!” He watched as she stopped her action and she glanced around. She heard him. She could hear him! Victor laughed shakily, tears beginning to well in his eyes. “Help!”

She looked around, turning to face him now but her eyes glossed over the shed. She didn't notice him. His heart almost dropped. He needed to try again. “I'm in the shed!” He called. “I've been kidnapped! Please, just-”

Her eyes then fell on him. She stared through the window at Victor. Her shocked expression showed both concern and kindness and tears instantly spilled over his cheeks. He was getting out of here. He was finally getting out of here.

He watched as she dropped her watering can and raised a finger as if to tell him to wait. He watched her move as quick as her legs could take her, away from the shed and out of his view. Victor took that moment to collapse back to the floor. His wrists stung with pain and his leg muscles ached but he didn't care. He really didn't care. He found help.

He broke instantly. His eyes squeezed shut and his whole body shook as he sobbed violently. He gulped for a breath but the sobs that wrecked through his body made it hard. The tears raced down his face, dripping down onto his shirt as his hands shook against the bonds. He couldn't believe it. The lady was calling for help. His father hadn't come rushing in yet. He was going to get out of here.

It felt like an eternity of waiting. He cried harshly the rest of the time. He waited. He wondered if the lady actually did call the police, or if she was just giving him false hope and just left him in the shed to be bitter and cruel.

What if she worked for his father?

Victor didn't think of that. She could have gone and told him what had happened. She could have told him he was calling for help and his father was now going to leave him there to rot, or return when it was time and punish him for trying to call for help. He didn't think of that. Oh God, he had no idea what was going to happen to him. His breathing became strained and his sobbing tugged tight against his stomach. It hurt but he couldn't stop.

Before he could realize how nauseous he felt, he was throwing up, heaving desperately and choking as he vomited onto the tape. The vomit dribbled from the tape, down his chin, and over his left leg. If he hadn't felt disgusting before, he definitely felt it now. Regardless of his vomiting, his shoulders continued to shake as he cried.

It felt like hours, but he soon heard the padlock pound against the door. He choked on his breath, tears beginning to fall even faster. His father was coming. His father was going to hurt him, going to make him pay for going against his wishes.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his legs close to his body in defence, “I'm s-s-sorry!” He stuttered through his tears. “I-I didn't – I'm s-so-” He couldn't get out another apology. His breathing came in deep breaths and he couldn't speak. His body shook as his cries became violent.

He felt a soft hand land on his shoulder. He refused to open his eyes, but whoever it was felt safe. He heard some noises over his cries but Victor was too busy gulping in huge breaths. He heard the sounds of the chains around his ankles clang and the weight was suddenly lifted. The tape that was stuck around his head was cut and pulled off with care. He then felt the person move to his back and cut the rope around his wrists free. His fingers felt numb and his hands didn't seem to work. He felt the soft hand rub circles on his back and he finally opened his eyes.

It wasn't his father and it wasn't the old lady. He didn't know who was inside the room but he only took notice of the woman in front of him. He didn't know who she was but her smile felt caring and her eyes held a kindness in them. She sat down beside him, rubbing soft circles on his back to ease the tension that built up from having his arms in the same position for days. Victor fell to her lap, letting the tears fall free and drip down onto her trousers, soaking the material. He wasn't going to be hurt. He wasn't going to die. He thought – He really thought he -

“It's okay, sweetheart,” He heard her voice. It was light and held sympathy and care. “You're safe now.”

Before Victor knew it, he was being carried on a stretcher, outside of the shed for the first time in five days. He took no notice of his father's house, or the people surrounding the place. He saw bright flashing lights from what he assumed were the police and ambulance. The lights hurt his eyes.

He was then put into the back of an ambulance, paramedics acting quickly to clean up his abused wrists. He hadn't noticed how bloodied and bruised they were.

The ambulance doors were then slammed shut and he could hear yelling through it. The moment he met eyes with the paramedics the realization hit him harder than before. He was safe; He won. He escaped from his father.

He was shaking. He couldn't stop. It had been a long five days.

 

_Day Six: Secure_

Victor swam in and out of consciousness. He felt it was easy to slip into a deep sleep and it felt nice. It felt nice sleeping in a bed instead of the floor. The bed in the hospital was soft and warm and the pillow he rested his head on felt like a fluffy cloud. He felt comfortable.

As comfortable as he felt on the bed, his whole body still ached, his wrists stung and his lips felt uncomfortably dry. He didn't realize how much his body hurt. His back ached whenever he moved his arms, his legs felt weak and he couldn't keep them crossed without it hurting and his wrists were beginning to feel less sore. The bandages kept them safe but just moving his hands hurt them.

His room was constantly full of Doctors and Nurses. He would have found it annoying if he hadn't just spent the last five days alone with the only other company other than his thoughts, being his father for less than an hour a day. He took enjoyment in the business of his room. He never wanted to be alone again.

He had so many scans. He was told to take this medicine, and he'd have that cleaned up. Regardless of his satisfaction of having people around him, he didn't like that they kept of touching him, and sticking him with needles, and shining lights in his eyes. During one of his moments where he felt he could breathe a little easier, his Doctor explained that he was essentially fine, other than his broken lips and bloodies wrists, he just had minor malnutrition. Victor wasn't surprised. He practically lived off toast and soup for five days. It was only his mental health they had some concerns over.

Which made sense. He was kidnapped, starved of human interaction and treated with the least amount of concern.

He got moved into a different room sometime after everyone stopped fussing with him. It was smaller than the first one and he was suddenly in a hospital gown. He didn't remember changing into it. He didn't pay much attention to his room, only the nurses and doctors that walked in every so often.

He ended up falling asleep again. It seemed that was all he ever did. He didn't know how long he had been out for, but he recalled it being light the last time he was fully conscious. Now, it looked as if the sun had just started to rise. It threw him off. What day was it?

“You've been asleep for most of the night,” The woman beside him said and urged him to lie down. “It's a new day. But rest, you've been through a lot.”

Victor's head fell against the pillow. It was so soft. He kept having to remind himself that everything was real. He wasn't dreaming. This was really happening and he was safe and away from his father.

His father... Thinking back to him, it made Victor's chest tighten with fear. He hoped for dear life that he would never have to see that man's face ever again. He felt tears well in his eyes. He didn't want to cry because of his father - not anymore. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He refused to cry. He refused.

He heard noise coming from outside his room. It took him a moment to realize who's voice it was shouting. He wasn't completely sure, but he was certain it was Yakov's voice. There was a beat of silence, then suddenly the door to his room swung open and Yakov stormed in.

His tired eyes looked heavy and he looked like a mess. He held a tight frown but the small tears in his eyes made Victor realize how much he missed him. He pushed himself up, going against the paramedic's request to lay down.

“Yakov,” His voice was thick and he choked out a sob. His arms locked around him, clutching him tightly in fear he'd disappear. He heard him let out a single sob. He'd never seen Yakov cry before. It hurt. It hurt seeing him like this and knowing it was because of him.

“ _Vitya_ ,” He breathed. His hug tightened, refusing to let Victor go for even a second, but Victor's back was starting to hurt. He ignored the pain, allowing himself to feel safe. “Don't you ever scare us like that again. I don't need any more stress, Vitya. Yura gave me enough hell these few days.”

Victor laughed. He laughed a genuine, careless laugh. It was about right for Yuri to make Yakov more stressed out. He missed him so much. He wanted him to know that. He wanted him to know he was his family now. He needed to tell him.

“Of course he did.” Victor smiled. He had to let go of the hug. His back ached too much. He moved back slightly, pausing for a moment. “Yakov,” He began. Yakov kept his eyes focused on Victor, waiting for him to continue. “I just want you to know that you... You've been there for me more for most of my life and I know I can be selfish and stupid at times, but I want you to know that I see you as someone I can call my father, and I just – I just wanted you to know that. And i-if it's okay for me to c-call you-” He covered his mouth, trying to hide his sobbing.

Yakov smiled, a tear falling down his face, “Of course it's okay. You are my son, Vitya.”

He fell back down to the bed as carefully as he could. He smiled up at Yakov, allowing the tears to fall free. Yakov was now his father. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wiped the tears away with his palms then glanced around the room, noticing that Yakov was the only one to walk in. “Where are the others?”

“They're in the waiting area,” Yakov explained as he blinked back the tears that still remained in his eyes. “I would have had Yuuri come in first, but he insisted I should be first. If you want to see any of them-”

“I will do,” Victor interrupted, “I just want it to be one at a time. I want to spend time alone with each of you. I missed you.” He felt his eyes well up again. He bit back his sob. He never wanted to let any of them go.

“Hey, no more of that crying,” Yakov said, pointing a finger at him. “I want to talk to you about your skating. I don't expect you to jump back into it just yet. You need time to recover and-”

“Can we-” Victor then paused, unsure where the right words were. “Can we not talk about that right now? I just... I need to know if you're okay?”

Yakov assured him that he was okay. At least, he was okay now. He explained how the past few days had been on everyone, but mostly Yuuri and Yuri. Victor felt horrible. He never wanted to put anyone he loved through those emotions ever again. Victor noticed, having Yakov in front of him, made him feel safer. He felt secured. He soaked it in, the feeling of safety.

After a while, Yakov could only explain so much before he almost fell into talking about his skating again. It was easy for him to slip from father figure to coach. However, he had tried to keep the subject away from it. Victor knew he was struggling to find the words and decided it was time to see someone else.

“Yakov,” He spoke silently. He stopped his talking, “I want to see Yuuri.”

He nodded. “I'll send him in.” He stood up, leaving the room.

He had to see Yuuri. He needed to.

Victor was left alone, waiting. It was a different feeling, this kind of waiting. He felt excitement in the pit of his stomach rather than fear. This waiting didn't feel like hours of terror, but more like a few long-awaited moments of joy.

The door clicked open and Victor's head shot up. His eyes met the brown iris' of his lover. Yuuri. It was his Yuuri. He felt a tear slip down his cheeks and Yuuri rushed to his side.

Victor's hands grasped around Yuuri's head as Yuuri did the same. Their foreheads touched as they took each other in. Victor's fingers ran through Yuuri's hair. It wasn't as soft as usual but he didn't care. He needed to feel Yuuri. They couldn't look away from each other and though Yuuri's reddened eyes were leaking tears; he couldn't look away from the watery blue ones staring back at him.

They didn't kiss, nor did they embrace. Not yet. They just needed to feel each other's presence.

Victor knew without any doubt in the world that he loved Yuuri, and the way he felt about him was truly not something he could express in words. He couldn't believe he was here, sat in a hospital with his loved ones around him. He had thought for a while he might have never seen them again.

If he hadn't fought back, he might not have.

A sob broke from his lips as Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri's neck, pulling him in. Yuuri held him tight, keeping Victor close against him. Victor sobbed into his neck, his hand reaching to run his fingers through Yuuri's hair. He could feel Yuuri's heartbeat through his chest. He missed Yuuri so much, He never wanted to let him go.

“It's okay,” Yuuri murmured shakily, keeping Victor close to him. “It's okay, I promise. Everything is fine. Everything is going to be alright.”

And Victor truly believed that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some corrections to this fic. Nothing major to the story, just a few little mistakes.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to get better,” Victor says to Yuuri one day. Yuuri glanced his way before putting his phone down, paying full attention to Victor.
> 
> “Where do you want to begin?”
> 
> ~
> 
> Victor recovers from his disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for some reason, I couldn't stop myself from writing another chapter!
> 
> Not Beta'd!

 

The day Victor returned home, he almost felt it was too good to be true.

He felt strange returning home. He found it hard to think that over a week ago, he was so careless about any danger that was lurking just outside his home. He didn’t think about anybody wanting to hurt him, to take him away from the place he was supposed to be safe. Away from the people he loved.

It was exactly what happened. Victor never wanted to go through that again. He never wanted to be taken away from what was his safe zone. He needed to remember every inch of his house, from the pictures that were scattered around the walls to the cobwebs that sat in hidden places.

He wanted to remember what it felt to be safe.

His doctors had told him he would be on edge for a while. Victor took the assumption it would be for the few days he remained in hospital, but when he was taken to his car and drove home by Yakov, with Yuuri by his side, he still couldn't stop himself from checking over his shoulder. His mind kept telling him anybody could sneak up behind him, much like someone had done. He needed to make sure he was safe. He needed to look.

Yakov let the two go inside without him, allowing them some alone time before he'd come back to check up on Victor. As much as Victor had wanted him to stay for a while, Yakov told him that he shouldn't overcrowd himself just yet – telling him to see everyone one day at a time. Victor wasn't sure where he was in this agreement.

When he took his first step inside his house, he had to make sure nobody who wasn't supposed to be there was there.

He couldn't concentrate on anything else. He needed to make sure it was safe. He searched through the hallway, through to the kitchen, to his bedroom, bathroom until he finally reached the living room. Each room was clear. He saw no intruder. He felt safer.

The worries he had were then pushed aside when he heard paws tapping on the ground.

“I think somebody missed you,” Victor heard Yuuri speak from behind him. From behind the couch, he saw the fluffy head of his poodle appear. The second Makkachin's gaze fell on Victor, the companion perked up, remembering exactly who he was.

Her tailed wagged rapidly, side to side, as she jumped over the arm of the couch and raced towards Victor's direction. He saw a flash of brown fur before he was tackled to the ground, his companion sniffing and licking at Victor's face, expressing how much she had missed him.

Victor laughed and cuddled his poodle close to him. Makkachin's excitement gradually died down as Victor ran his hands through her curly fur. The soft hairs brushing against his skin was what he wanted to remember. Her fur was so soft, like silk.

He buried his face into her fur. Her smell was familiar to him. She smelled like home. Her paws tapped against the floor as she tried to get comfortable and sit on Victor's lap. He moved back, loosening the hug.

He didn't notice when the tears began to fall again. He was getting tired of crying all the time. He did so much of it at the hospital too, he wondered how he hadn't run out of tears. He heard Makkachin whined at the sound of her owner sobbing. She moved her head in attempts to get to Victor's face. She made attempts to lick away his tears but found it difficult with his face still buried into her fur.

A pair of arms wrapped around his body and Victor looked up to find Yuuri now beside him. His arms stretched around both him and Makkachin, joining in on their reunion. Victor pulled Makkachin closer to himself. Yuuri rested his head against Victors, his hand now running through his hair. Victor hummed in content.

This is what it felt to be safe – to be loved.

He missed this so much.

Victor knew he had to move from the floor at some point. Makkachin's body made his legs go numb and he needed to move it. He let her go but she didn't move far. She got off his lap and sat beside him as she watched Yuuri help Victor up to his feet. His numb leg buzzed with a tingling sensation before he got all feeling back.

Victor's gaze fell to the room. His eyes roamed every inch he could see. This was their home. This was what he had been taken away from. His hands fell to the couch, his fingers grazing at the material. He never took notice how soft it felt.

He took notice of the photo that sat on the drawers beside the chair. Victor's hands grasped at the photo frame. It was of him, Yuuri and Yuri at the Grand Prix Finals after the two won their medals. Victor smiled at the memory. He was so proud of them both.

“Victor?”

His eyes met with Yuuri's. He could see the concern in his eyes as Victor kept his gaze fixed. He blindly put the picture back down. He was looking at Yuuri. This was his Yuuri, in the flesh, home and safe and in Victors reach. Victor couldn't forget how much he missed him.

He smiled warmly as he reached out for him. Victor pulled him close, then put his hands on either side of Yuuri's face, and kissed him lightly. Victor kept his eyes closed for a moment after, taking a few deep breaths.

“I missed you.” He heard Yuuri speak just above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

Victor moved forward, his thumb caressing his cheek. Yuuri lifted his head; their noses almost touching. Victor could feel the warmth of his breath against the top of his lip. They moved, their lips touching again.

This - This is what Victor wanted to remember.

 

* * *

 

 

It was later in the day and Victor felt so tired.

He was certain it was mostly from his crying. He found so much caused the tears to start flowing that he felt almost stupid. He could have looked at a microwave and start crying over it.

He didn't like feeling so emotional all the time.

He took a proper look around his home after his reunion with Makkachin. His first look was nothing but his mind heavy with worry. Now he knew his house was safe, he felt more at ease to take a proper look.

Yuuri let him take his time but never strayed too far from him, and Victor was thankful. He didn't want to be alone, just in case.

Victor almost felt like he was seeing everything for the first time. He recognised too many things for it to be his first time, but his sudden interest in the littlest things made it seem new. He wanted to touch everything, to feel it all and remember; his fingers grazing along different materials and textures. He wanted to remember.

He discovered things he never noticed before. He never noticed the small rip on the arm of his couch, which was probably caused by Makkachin. He discovered that he only owned four knives and yet he had too many forks for it to be considered normal. He even found Makkachin's favorite chew toy which she lost a few weeks ago. He learned so much just from being more observant, he wondered how he missed so much.

He reached their bedroom last. His gaze met his bed – their bed. The comforter looked so fluffy and soft, the pillows too looking like heaven. He had wanted this for so long, to sleep in his own bed, to have Yuuri's warm body for him to curl up to and have Makkachin occasionally snuggle up to him on cold nights. His hand grazed the covers, the soft material touching his palm. He turned and sat down. The softness of the bed against his skin was unbelievable. He just wanted to snuggle up in a ball and never leave it's warmth.

“I washed the sheets before the hospital allowed you to come home,” Yuuri stepped forward, speaking to him. “I thought you would've liked a clean bed.”

Victor smiled warmly, the thought tugged at his heart. He reached out his hand, lacing his fingers with Yuuri's. Yuuri moved closer to him, stopping to only sit down beside him. Victor closed his eyes and rested his head against Yuuri's. He felt Yuuri's free hand trace the outline of his neck before pressing forward to kiss him, lightly.

Victor sighed with content. “Thank you.” He spoke below a whisper. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. “I'm going to take a shower. Is that okay?”

Yuuri moved to grip both of Victor's hands in his. “You don't have to ask. This is your home.”

Victor wasn't even aware that he had asked. He took in a shaky breath and stood from the bed, turning to walk to the bathroom. Victor wanted to shower in his own home for so long. He liked to feel clean and fresh. The shampoo at the hospital was nothing to his own. His hair still felt too greasy for comfort.

He closed the bathroom door behind him. His hand reached to lock the door, but it froze in place. He didn't need to lock it. It was just Yuuri inside the house; Yuuri, Makkachin and nobody else. He chose to leave the door unlocked in the end.

He slipped out of his clothes, aimlessly throwing them to the floor. He reached out, switching the shower on and changing its settings. He chose for a warm shower. After testing the warmth with his hand, he stepped inside, closing the shower door behind him. The moment the water hit his skin, a chill ran through his body.

The water felt great but he felt something unnerving about it. He couldn't calm his mind down. He felt he had a reason to not like the water but he couldn't work out why. He felt like there was a memory there, hiding away in the back of his mind. He just couldn't remember it, and it's refusal to be remembered irritated Victor.

He looked around the shower. The small space he was stood in felt too small, and he took a deep breath, followed by another one. He felt he couldn't breathe. Victor reached for the shower door and flung the door open. The cold air from outside the shower made his skin shiver but he didn't care. He finally felt he could breathe a little better.

His palms fell to his face as he groaned. His head wouldn't stop thinking. It felt heavy, like he had so much going on. He began to feel a headache creep up. He tried ignoring it. He needed to shower. He just wanted to feel clean. He hoped it would make him feel better.

He reached up for the shampoo bottle. The lid popped open and he squeezed the liquid onto his hand.

_He gasped at the shock of the cold water. The tape stopped him from breathing properly. He began to choke. “You started to smell.”_

Victor gasped, his trembling hands made the bottle slip from his grip. The sound of it crashing against the shower floor made him flinch, the memory now becoming more vivid. His heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He weaved them into his hair, gripping the wet strands tight. He heaved in deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Another memory flashed through his mind. One he could remember. It was the padlock. He could hear it knocking on the door. It was so clear, so real. It was the feeling of helplessness and fear that came rushing back. His wide eyes shot up, staring at the walls that trapped him inside the shower. He took in only one conclusion: He had nowhere to run.

His body felt numb. He felt he had no control over his movements. A sob quaked through his body and he felt his legs shaking. He could feel the tears slipping down his face, falling along with the drops of water falling from his hair. He fell to the floor, pushing himself to the corner of the shower. An arm wrapped around his legs, the other over his head. He sat there, gulping for breath as he sobbed.

The sound of the shower squeaking off alerted him of somebody else's presence. He froze, too afraid to look up and see who it was. He felt something soft drape around his shoulders and over his body. He pulled what appeared to be a towel tighter around his body. He then heard a voice. It was soft and caring, not the voice of somebody who wanted to hurt him. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes meeting the chocolate colored eyes of Yuuri.

Yuuri's stare was full of nothing but concern. Victor felt his hands gently and carefully towel him dry as best he could. Victor squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back into his legs. He didn't want to watch. He could hear Yuuri say something to him but he couldn't make out any of his words. Nothing was making sense.

Yuuri made no move to get Victor up, nor did he push him into talking. Instead, Victor felt his arms wrap around him as he continued to hear soft words of support being whispered into his ear. Yuuri's voice then moved and he then felt soft kisses being placed on his back, in between each word Yuuri spoke to him.

Victor didn't know how long the two sat there for but by the time his hair felt damp, his heart felt it could finally beat properly. He lifted his head and met Yuuri's eyes. It was a silent request to help him up. Yuuri helped him stand to his feet. His legs still felt shaky and his hands continued to tremble, but he felt so much calmer than he had before. Yuuri then guided him out of the bathroom and towards their bed.

Yuuri pulled back the bed sheets, allowing Victor to crawl under the covers. Victor pushed the towel off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He didn't care where it fell. He only cared about how soft and warm his bed felt. He wanted to sink into its comfort. He pulled the sheets up to his chin, burying his face into his pillow.

The bed shifted next to him and Yuuri slipped under the covers next to him. Victor rested his head on Yuuri's chest, burrowing closer. Yuuri wraps his arms around him, his hand running through his hair in slow, soothing motions.

“You're safe.” Victor finally made sense of Yuuri's words. He listened closely, “You're safe here, Victor. Nobody is going to hurt you here.”

He was safe here. Victor was safe.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor discovered that night of his first panic that he couldn't sleep in the dark anymore.

He had woken up from his short nap with Yuuri still by his side. He hadn't known how long he slept for but the sun was still high in the sky. He took comfort in the light.

They stayed lying in the bed for what felt like hours. Victor kept himself huddled up to Yuuri, not wanting to let him go. He felt so much calmer around him. At some point, when he heard Yuuri's stomach grumble with hunger, he said to Yuuri that they should eat something.

Victor suggested to order out so they could laze around and continue to do nothing. Yuuri suggested otherwise. He didn't want Victor to begin eating unhealthy. They had a list from the doctor of good foods Victor should eat while at home. Yuuri wanted to stick to it while Victor didn't really care much.

Yuuri won in the end. When he left to head into the kitchen, Victor followed closely behind. He didn't want to be alone. Yet he couldn't tell Yuuri that, so instead he told him he wanted to help cook.

He saw the doubt in Yuuri's eyes but he knew he wouldn't press.

After they ate, they sat on the couch and watched TV. Victor wanted to catch up with some shows he had missed out on and Yuuri couldn't say no. They stayed like that for the rest of the evening, Victor being curled up to Yuuri's side, half watching his show, half falling asleep. He had wanted to go to bed but he couldn't ask Yuuri to sleep just because he wanted to, but he couldn't be alone.

When Yuuri told him he was going to bed, Victor followed.

Both had settled in and Yuuri chose to scroll through his phone while Victor cuddled up beside him. Yuuri's hand was running through his hair and it made him feel calm. He had missed this too much. He looked at Yuuri's phone, curious to what he was doing.

It was another thing Victor couldn't do. He couldn't look at his phone. He didn't want to be faced with all the messages and calls from everyone. He knew some would be from back when he was taken. He didn't want to see the messages of his loved ones asking for him to tell them that he was okay. He ended up using Yuuri's phone whenever he wanted to speak to Yakov. Yakov was the only one he could contact. He couldn't speak to anyone else just yet.

He couldn't even go online. The thought of people talking about him, saying things about his disappearance, it made him feel anxious. He couldn't handle strangers opinions on him anymore. He knew not everyone liked him, and those types of comments were the ones he couldn't deal with the most.

Yuuri shifted on the bed, placing his phone on the bedside table. “I'm going to turn off the lamp, is that okay?” Victor glanced up at him, question struck his face. Yuuri hesitated. “I don't... I don't know if you'll be okay... in the dark...?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Yuuri blinked hard, “I – Okay, just tell me if you don't like it.”

He then took off his glasses, sitting them next to his phone. His hand reached over for the lamp. He took a quick glance towards Victor and then in an instant, the room plunged into darkness.

Victor's eyes remained open. He felt Yuuri reach an arm around him, pulling him close. Victor didn't feel comfortable. He knew Yuuri was there in his room but he could see nothing else. He didn't know who could be hiding inside his room. He couldn't see anything. He could see the dark blur of the furniture and his coat hanging up on the door which looked like a person and it looked far too real, it had to be a person and Victor swore he saw it move and -

His hand shot out to reach for the lamp. His hand smacked against the corner of the bedside table and pain erupted through his hand. He scrambled, hand reaching and blindly looking for the switch. He felt he wasn't fast enough and as he glanced over at what he thought was a person, the light behind him brightened up the room.

Victor's eyes stared at where he thought a person stood. It was just his coat. It was only his coat. His breathing came out in quick pants. He turned, seeing Yuuri now sat up and his lamp illuminating light again.

“Victor,” Yuuri's gaze fell to his hand. “Your hand is bleeding.”

Victor glanced down. The back of his hand was now covered in crimson. He could see his hand visibly shake as he watched the blood trickle down his palm. Yuuri gripped his hand gently and placed his other on his back, guiding Victor to his feet and to the kitchen.

Yuuri sat Victor down on a chair. He turned and searched through the cupboards, finding the first aid box. Yuuri then grabbed his hand again and pulled him over to the sink. He switched the tap on and put Victor's hand under the cold water, cleaning up his wound.

Victor hissed at the pain. He hadn't even realized he hit it that hard. Victor watched as Yuuri cleaned up his wound before turning the tap off and sitting him down on to the chair. Yuuri then searched through the first aid box while Victor stared at his hand.

Or more specifically, his wrist.

His wounds were healing, but the red, sore looking bands that wrapped around his wrists still remained. It was yet another reminder his disappearance. He hated the way they looked against his pale skin. They were ugly, horrible looking things. He never wanted the bandages to be taken off when they had done, but they said his rope burns had healed enough, that air was important too.

Victor didn't care about that. He wanted them covered up.

“Victor?” He felt Yuuri's hand on his arm, catching his attention. Victor looked up, then back down to his hand, now seeing it bandaged up. “Victor, how are you feeling now?”

Yuuri's hand stroked his arm in a comforting matter and Victor didn't really know how to answer his question. He was feeling a lot of things. The heaviness of his eyes was what caught his attention the most.

“Tired.” He muttered, closing his eyes for a moment to rest them.

Yuuri took him back to bed, guiding Victor back under the covers. Yuuri then called Makkachin in, the tired dog lazily walking in after being woken up from her sleep. She hopped up onto the bed and stretching herself across Victor's legs.

Yuuri laid back down with Victor, his arm laced around his waist as he pulled him close. The lamp on Yuuri's side remained on for the rest of the night.

The next night, Victor asked to keep the lamp on.

And the night after that.

Each night beside Yuuri helped him relax a little. He found comfort in his presence, and on the nights where he couldn't sleep, he'd sit there and watch Yuuri's chest rise and fall.

Victor found sleeping to be something he could only do when the sun was beginning to rise, and even then, he'd only sleep for a couple of hours. His eyes would feel so heavy that he'd expect himself to fall asleep any second, and yet he remained awake all night, tossing and turning and his mind running haywire. He felt like he couldn't switch off.

On the nights he did sleep, it would still be short lived.

He would find himself having nightmares he couldn't remember. Each nightmare was different to the rest, Victor knew that much. He couldn't explain what had happened. He would never remember them, but he knew he had them when Yuuri would be shaking him awake because he started screaming.

Victor decided that he'd rather get a little bit of sleep in the morning then wake Yuuri up with his screams.

Daytime went somewhat easier than the nights did. It was just the morning where he struggled, with what little sleep he'd get, he found it difficult to wake up. He found it even more difficult to work himself around Yuuri's routine.

Yuuri was still skating. Yuuri still had practice and competitions and Victor found it hard because he couldn't be alone. He knew, as a coach, he couldn't keep Yuuri from the ice just because he couldn't handle being alone, but he needed to have someone with him. He knew he could be selfish, but he wasn't selfish enough to demand Yuuri stay at home just for him.

He would have liked to go with Yuuri to the skating rink, if only he could walk outside. He could barely go near the front door. Going outside was such a terrifying thought to him, he couldn't do it. Not with Yuuri, not with Makkachin, not with anyone.

And Victor had trouble voicing these concerns to Yuuri. Yet, he could tell Yuuri had an idea on how Victor felt. It was the way Yuuri spoke to him - the way Yuuri treated him. On one hand, Victor loved the fact that Yuuri didn't let him out of his sight for long, but at the same time, he hated how fragile he felt.

It was until one day when Yuuri missed out another day of skating, which Victor hated, Yuuri suggested that somebody should be with him each day until he does begin to feel safe enough to be alone for a little while, or to join them at the rink. Victor wasn't overly fond of having everyone know he was too afraid to be alone, but he quite liked the idea of seeing everyone.

Victor agreed to Yuuri's suggestion and the next day, Yuri was the one who would visit first. Victor already took the assumption that he demanded it rather than he so happened to have the day off, but he felt fine about that. He trusted Yuri.

So he and Yuuri waited for Yuri to arrive. Victor would be able to see Yakov too, since Yakov offered to drive Yuri over. Victor had felt horrible avoiding the two since he was discontinued at the hospital but he knew he couldn't avoid them forever. He was rather excited to see them again.

Victor stood staring out the kitchen window, waiting for Yakov's car to pull up when he felt a warm cup being placed in his hands. Yuuri had made him a cup of coffee. Victor took it without complaint. He had needed it.

“Victor,” Yuuri spoke, catching Victors attention. “I... I want to talk to you about something that is bothering me a little.”

Victor raised a brow and took a quick sip from his coffee. “Yes?”

Yuuri hesitated. “You've just – You've become very isolated since you've came back home.” He took a deep breath. “I just want you to... I don't know.”

Victor blinked hard. “Yuuri,” Victor said, some annoyance in his voice, “What else do you expect from me? I was -” He stopped in an instant. He couldn't say it. “I was -” He couldn't speak about it.

“You don't have to say it. I know.” Yuuri replied. He swallowed hard before asking, “Are you sure you don't want to speak to a professional about it?”

Victor had already decided he didn't yet. The hospital recommended it, as did Yakov and Yuuri and everyone who he spoke to, but Victor knew himself. He would talk to somebody when he was ready to talk about it. At that moment, he just wanted to go home and surround himself with warmth and safety and comfort.

The sound of the front door slamming open startled him. He yelped at the sound, and then he heard yelling. He heard so much yelling and loud noises, his heart pounded hard against his chest. His hands began to tremble and he no longer cared for the coffee. It fell to the floor, the glass shattering as it did so, causing Victor more fear at the sound. He felt his ankles burn from the liquid but he didn't care about it. He needed to protect himself.

He backed up to the corner of the room, his back hitting the side of the counter as he did. His arms wrapped around him in a protective manner as he heard the yelling become louder and louder until it was in the room he was in.

“Victor! I swear to God if you're still sulking and crying...” It was Yuri. It was just Yuri. Victor forced out deep breathes in attempts to calm himself. He saw Yuuri speaking quickly to him, and Yuri's face dropped. Victor then met his eyes.

Victor had an idea on how pathetic he must have looked in that moment. He was shaking in fear, his eyes were wide and he couldn't stop staring at Yuri, who returned the same look. He heard more yelling behind him, the voice belonging to Yakov.

“Yura, don't yell!” Yakov raced into the kitchen behind Yuri. His eyes landed on Victors terrified form and his expression turned from anger to concern in an instant. “Vitya.”

Yakov stepped forward, pulling Victor towards him. Victor instantly wrapped his arms around him, shaking as he took comfort in the supportive hug. Victor then glanced up and through his glazed eyes, he could see Yuri finding the words to apologize to him.

He let go of Yakov, stepping forward and bringing Yuri into a hug. He doesn't feel Yuri react to it for a moment, but when Yuri's returns the hug, Victor feels he could relax.

“You startled me,” Victor explained, his voice shaking. “You just startled me, that's all.”

 

* * *

 

 

Victor doesn't quite know why his most recent nightmare hit him as hard as it did.

It wasn't any different to his previous ones where he wouldn't remember the nightmare, but he knew it involved what happened to him. The nightmare continued to terrify him long after he woke up, but whatever had happened in this one made him react in much more fear than the others.

He woke up trembling from head to toe. He was fully conscious but he couldn't shout for help; his body was completely frozen. He felt almost frozen in fear, and his inability to move sent him in hysteria. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His breathing came out in short, quick gasps. He felt desperate for breath. He could feel his tears falling down his face and soaking the pillow beneath his head. He wanted to call out for Yuuri, beg him for help, but he couldn't.

He felt an arm reach around him, gripping his waist and pulling him back. He heard them speak to him, their breath was warm against his ear. He couldn't make out their words, but all he could hear was his father's voice, speaking to him. _“I'm going to bring you back home, Victor.”_ A harsh sob escaped his lips. He was certain he felt the prick of the needle in his neck. _“Shh, you'll be back home soon.”_

A new form of terror ripped through his body and it told him to do one thing – run. Victor almost screamed. His body, which was no longer frozen, reacted immediately, shoving away the body that held him. He stumbled backwards, falling off the edge of the bed and landing to the floor with a thump. His feet shuffled against the floor, pushing himself away and back up against the wall.

His frantic eyes stared at the only other person in the room. He stared into Yuuri's panicked expression. Victor breathed hard. It was just Yuuri. It wasn't his father. He was safe.

When the realization hit, Victor broke out into tears.

Between his short breaths, he stuttered out his apologies. He watched as Yuuri got up from the bed, gingerly making his way over towards him. Victor bit his lip in attempts to ease up his cries. He didn't want Yuuri to be so cautious around him. He didn't want to make Yuuri feel like he couldn't comfort him, that he had to be careful around him. Victor needed the comfort.

When Yuuri got close enough, Victor couldn't hold back. He reached out, gripping Yuuri by an arm and pulling him into a tight embrace. Victor burrowed close, his face against Yuuri's neck. Yuuri's arms wrapped around him, rocking him side to side in a soothing motion and spoke calming words to him.

Victor could only make out a few words over his sobs, but they were words he took comfort in. “You're alright,” He heard. “- Safe – Nobody will hurt – Fine, you're – It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright.”

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Those words, Victor remembered. He heard them so clearly. He recalled the first day after his escape, Yuuri saying that to him. Victor remembered how much he believed in those words, how much strength he felt hearing it. He hoped to hear them again.

His sobbing eventually subsided, becoming irritating sniffs. He heard Yuuri say something about the bed. Victor didn't listen, but whatever Yuuri said involved it. Victor nodded and Yuuri helped him to his feet, the two then settling back down under the covers.

_It's okay I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Victor replayed those words as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor felt like the dead.

He still hadn't slept properly since he returned home. He still had nights where his insomnia took the best of him and either slept very little or not at all. The nights where he did sleep, he'd wake up some time later in hysteria over a nightmare he could never remember.

He felt so tired all the time. He had taken to napping a little during the day, but he didn't do it often. He didn't want to make Yuuri worry any more than he already was. Yet at the same time, Victor assumed Yuuri knew he wasn't sleeping. Even Victor could see it.

His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles. He almost looked asleep while awake his eyelids were that droopy. His hair was still stringy and greasy, and as much as Victor liked to be clean, he came to not care enough about it anymore.

He was getting frustrated with his tiredness. He was getting frustrated with a lot of things, actually.

He wasn't sure why that specific day everything just felt so loud and irritating, but it had. He noticed every little sound in the house, from Makkachin's breathing to the clock ticking away on the wall. He could hear a faint buzzing from the electricity and the clash of pots and pans that Yuuri was cleaning.

With every clash, he flinched. His irritation became too much.

Victor stood from the chair and strode into the kitchen, finding Yuuri standing by the sink. He heard the clash again.

“Yuuri,” Victor spoke a little too harshly. Yuuri paused washing up and turned his gaze to Victor. “Stop it.”

Yuuri blinked in confusion, his brows then furrowing together. “...Stop what?” He asked and put the plate he was cleaning back into the water. The sound of it hitting other cutlery made Victor flinch once more.

“That!” Victor's finger pointed towards the sink, “You're just – Just being so _loud_.”

Yuuri removed his hands from the sink, grabbing a cloth and drying his hands. He turned, now facing Victor. “You don't have to get all snappy at me,” Yuuri told him. “You could have just asked me to be a little more quieter.”

Victor crossed his arms and huffed. He was _not_ being snappy. He was just a little annoyed with all the loud noises. “I am not being snappy.”

“Yes, you are,” Yuuri stated sternly. “I know you haven't slept well recently. I haven't either. But you can't just come in here and snap at me like that.”

“And that's all my fault, is it?” Victor spat, hand resting on his chest. “Well, excuse me for having nightmares every god damn night. I'm sorry that's such an inconvenience to you!”

“That is not what I meant.” Yuuri glared. His expression became stern.

“Then what did you mean?”

Yuuri took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down. “We're both just tired and irritated, okay? This has _nothing_ to do with your insomnia or those nightmares. Nothing. Do you understand that?”

Victor didn't feel like it had nothing to do with it. He felt that Yuuri blamed him for both of their irritation. As much as Yuuri said it had nothing to do with the nightmares, Victor thought otherwise.

“I don't, no.”

Yuuri blinked once, then again. “Victor,” His voice eased up, no longer sounding so harsh. “Please, just... try and start working with me. I can't help you get better if you don't talk to me about how you're feeling.”

Victor didn't know why, but what Yuuri said almost infuriated him. He felt so angry and frustrated. Yet he also felt sorrow. He wanted to yell and scream and cry, everything was building up inside of him, he felt he couldn't control his emotions anymore.

“If I don't – If I don't talk to you?” Victor began, his voice straining. “I can't talk to you!” He saw Yuuri's eyes glaze over with tears, but Victor continued. “How do you expect me to talk to you? You can't understand how I'm feeling, nobody can! You weren't there! You have no idea of what I went through, of how scared I am of everything now!”

“And you don't think I know how it feels to be scared?” Yuuri retaliated, glaring back at Victor. “I'm an anxious wreck, of course I know how it feels to be afraid. But you're right, I don't know what you went through, but don't you dare say I can't at least try and help you.”

Victor huffed and spun on his heel, pacing the room for a moment. He then paused before turning to Yuuri and saying, “You have no idea. You have no idea how I feel.”

The silence that dropped between the two was thick and suffocating.

“Then just fucking tell me.”

Yuuri wanted to know how Victor felt, so he was going to tell him. He was going to tell him as much as he could.

“I'm just... I'm just scared of _everything_ ,” Victor choked through a sob. He took a deep breath, preparing to say more. “I'm scared to be by myself. I'm scared to fall asleep because of those nightmares. I'm scared that – that somebody is going to come in and take me away from you again and I'm terrified that I won't be able to find a way out if I do. It terrifies me, Yuuri. I never – I don't -”

Yuuri stepped forward. “I know.”

“N-no, you don't. You can't.” He shook his head, unable to believe Yuuri could know how he felt. “I feel so guilty. I could have stopped it. I could have not gone outside that morning. I should have seen it coming. I wouldn't be putting everyone through all this. I wouldn't be keeping you awake, I wouldn't be making you feel like you have to look after me -”

“- Victor,” Yuuri spoke over him, but Victor continued.

“I wouldn't be so fearful of everyone and everything.” The tears finally fell. “It's all my fault, Yuuri. It's all my fault that-”

“- Victor!”

He finally stopped. “What?”

Yuuri stared at him, tears staining his cheek too. “I felt that way too.”

“...Huh?”

Yuuri sniffed, then took a step forward, his hands placed on either side of Victors face. “The morning you disappeared, I blamed myself. I should have gone outside with you. I felt it was my fault you disappeared. If I hadn't taken the day off, Victor, you-”

“Yuuri,” Victor choked. He pulled Yuuri in, arms wrapping around his waist and Yuuri returning the embrace.

Their arms clasped around each other and their chests pressed together, warm tears flowed down their cheeks. Neither wanted to let go. They took comfort in each other's embrace, clutching tight.

“It wasn't your fault,” Yuuri spoke into Victor's neck.

Victor sighed. He wanted to believe that. “It wasn't yours, either.”

Neither said anything, only remaining in their embrace for moments more.

 

* * *

 

 

It was Yuri's turn to keep Victor company while Yuuri was at practice. Victor was rather unsure about his appearance. He had wanted to speak to him for a while. He wanted his opinion and Victor knew Yuri wouldn't beat around the bush. He quite liked that about Yuri.

When he had arrived, they sat around and watched a show while Victor debated on how to begin the conversation.

He wanted to ask Yuri how he thought Victor was doing, in regards to his recovery.

It was the argument he and Yuuri had that made him wonder if he was actually getting better, or if he was continuing to sink deeper into his nightmares. He didn't want to get worse. He couldn't put anyone through that, just because he felt so emotional and scared all the time.

So he asked Yuri, and he got the honest response he was looking for.

“I don't think you're even trying.”

Victor glanced up at him, startled. “I – Really?”

Yuri nodded. “Have you even tried, I dunno, going outside?” Victor shook his head. “Have you tried talking about your kidnapping?” Victor shivered and shook his head. “Then you're not trying, are you?”

Victor didn't want to admit it, but it was the cold hard truth. Yet, regardless of that, Victor shook his head in denial. “You can't understand,” He began, lowering his head. “You're just a kid.”

And that caused Yuri to get angry.

“Seriously, Victor?” Yuri spat, now leaning forward in his seat. Victor's eyes shot up. “You asked me if I think you're trying to recover. I tell you what I think and then you tell me that I don't understand?”

Victor swallowed hard. He knew Yuri was right, yet he still couldn't admit it. “I just – You can't. You don't know what I went through, how could you know if I'm trying or not?”

Yuri's stare was something Victor felt uncomfortable with. He could tell Yuri was getting ready for a long lecture. He turned his head away. “Victor, you asked me that question for a reason. Why deny my opinion when you asked for it?”

Victor refused to meet his stare.

He heard Yuri sigh heavily, giving up on trying. “Fine then, be isolated. You'll only lose everyone if you do that.”

Victor continued to keep his stare away, now wanting to hide the tears that started to fall.

 

* * *

 

“I want to get better,” Victor says to Yuuri one day. Yuuri glanced his way before putting his phone down, paying full attention to Victor.

“Where do you want to begin?” He asked.

Victor thought for a moment. “I want to be able to express my emotions properly. No – I want to sleep properly first, then that.” Victor paused again, thinking. “And then I want to find a way to talk about what happened. I can't speak to a stranger about it yet, but I want to find a way.”

Yuuri gave Victor a small smile and nodded. “It takes time. I believe you can do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Victor,” Yuuri says as he walks into their room that night. Victor is sat in his bed, flipping through a book he picked out. He glances up at Yuuri. “You know how you said you wanted to find a way to talk about what happened to you?”

Victor thinks back and nods, “I do.”

Yuuri sits beside Victor in their bed. Victor leant back to lay against Yuuri, and Yuuri's wraps his arms around his waist. “I did some research. I think I found a good starting point for you.”

Victor ignores his book. He shifts his weight to face Yuuri, “I don't want to see a professional yet.”

“It's not a professional,” Yuuri says in response. “As much as I would like for you to see one, I can't force you to. So I'm going to meet you halfway.” Yuuri then leant back and reached for his bedside table. He pulled the drawer open, rummaging for something before pulling out what he needed.

Victor stared at the object in Yuuri's hand. “... A notepad?”

Yuuri nodded. “I thought about it for most of today. I thought if you couldn't talk to yourself about it, how could you talk to somebody else?” Yuuri passed the notepad to Victor, who took it. “So why not just not talk about it. You can write about it instead.”

Victor flips through the empty pages. The pages that could one day be filled with his story. Victor bit his lip, “I like the idea,” He began. He struggled to find the words. “I – I think I'll struggle a little writing it too. There's quite a lot I actually don't... I don't remember. Well, I remember them in pieces, really.”

“Take your time. You'll get there.”

Victor licks his lips and nods. “I will. I like the idea,” He flips through the book again. “It could help me put everything together. I think I'll do it.”

Yuuri smiled before placing a soft kiss against Victor's lips, “You'll get there. I know you will.”

 

* * *

 

 

Victor thought a lot about Yuri's words to him, and his words to Yuuri. He could accept now that Yuri was in fact right. He wasn't trying. He was isolating himself and if he didn't try and fight it, he would lose everyone.

And he thought about his words to Yuuri. He couldn't tell Yuuri he wanted to get better and not try, and he felt like he was doing exactly that. He didn't feel much of a change in himself. His nightmares became easier to handle, and he started sleeping more, which was something he was rather pleased with. He even began writing a few notes in his notepad - nothing too detailed, just a few thoughts about how he felt.

It was a start, but it wasn't enough.

He went up to Yuuri one day and told him he wanted to try and go outside.

He thought about it for a while. He was torn between trying to tell Yuuri a little about his disappearance or going outside. He was going to start with his disappearance, but he couldn't yet. He wasn't able to write it down, so he already knew it wasn't worth the try just yet.

So he decided he wanted to walk outside. Even if it were just a walk down the road, he would still feel like it was something. Victor wanted to start getting better. He wanted to get his life back, not just for himself, but for everyone else too.

He didn't want to stay inside any longer. In a way, him forcing himself to stay inside simply because he was so scared made him feel like he was back inside the shed, hidden away from the world. And it was all by his own choice. He didn't like that he chose that choice. It felt too much like his fathers when he took Victor. Him being inside, not able to see the outside world, reminded him too much of the shed and he needed to get out.

He was just terrified of doing so.

“We'll take it in small, baby steps,” Yuuri suggested to Victor after he told him. “I'll be beside you the entire time.”

Victor smiled, “That sounds good.” He would be lying if he said he didn't feel nervous. He could feel his bones shaking with nerves.

“Why don't we do something easy first? We could take Makkachin out for a walk?” Yuuri asks and Victor likes the idea. He nods and watches as Yuuri stands to grab Makkachin's leash.

Makkachin jumps and pants with excitement when she hears the rattle of her leash. Her barks told the two to hurry up as Yuuri attaches it to her collar as Victor puts on his shoes and coat.

Victor faced the door with nerves. Anything could happen while the two were outside, but nothing could happen too. He could feel his hands starting to shake and Victor wills them to stop. He didn't want to feel scared and nervous just from going outside. He wants to be able to walk outside and not fear anything happening. He wants to go to the store by himself, to walk Makkachin by himself, to start doing things without the need of having someone there.

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

He remembers Yuuri's words. He takes a deep breath and feels as Yuuri's hand lock with his. Victor stares down at their intertwined hands, then to Yuuri, who's smile could brighten up even his darkest moods.

_Yuuri is so beautiful._

“Ready?” He asks and Victor nods. He's prepared. He's ready.

Yuuri's hand reaches for the handle. The door clicked and was pulled open. A cold wind bit at Victor's cheeks, but the sun's rays felt warm against his face. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and took a moment to remember what the smell of fresh air was like.

Swallowing hard, Victor willed his legs to move. He took a step outside with Yuuri beside him and Makkachin trying to pull them along, but Yuuri kept him stable. Yuuri then turned, closing the door behind them and locking it. Victor smiled. He was outside. He was actually outside.

“We'll only walk around the block. Like I said, baby steps,” Yuuri told Victor as they walked further away from their home.

“Baby steps,” Victor repeated.

They walked in a comfortable silence. Victor took in the sites he saw. He hadn't been outside for so long and yet, so little had changed. He expected everything to be so different. The little change only made Victor feel more at ease with his outing. It felt like it had been so long since he went outside. He couldn't help but smile.

Being outside gave him a new sense of freedom. It was different to the one he felt at home. His freedom at home was his comfort. He felt comfortable at home to just be himself, to act however he wishes, to just unwind and relax. His freedom outside was even bigger. There were strangers who he didn't know, people who just went on with their lives and he was one of them. He was a stranger to so many people too.

He's isolated himself for so long, he wasn't even sure why he did so in the first place. He didn't ever think he'd want to feel that isolation again and yet, at home, he felt safe like that. He didn't know if he was still struggling to separate himself from what he lived with for almost a week, but he knew for certain that now, he wasn't. He wasn't having to fear making a choice, or worrying about what to say. He wasn't forced into isolation or manipulated into thinking and feeling a certain way. He had his freedom. He was free.

Victor's eyes then met a building he hadn't seen before. “Oh, a coffee shop!” He spoke, pointing towards the shop on the other side of the road.

Yuuri looked up at him then back to the shop, “Yeah, it opened last week.” Yuuri glanced over at Victor, then back to the shop. “Do you want to go inside?”

Victor thought for a moment before nodding. He was ready for this. He didn't have to say anything or even order a drink. As long as he could walk inside, in a room full of strangers, he couldn't doubt he could do more. He felt confident in himself.

And with Yuuri's words repeating in his mind, he felt safe, too.

Yuuri tied Makkachin to a pole outside of the shop and the two stepped inside. The brew of coffee beans filled the air and Victor forgot what it was like. He almost felt like a child, relearning all these experiences. But he was excited to relearn them now. He wanted to do more, to experience more.

“Do you want me to order for you?” Yuuri had asked him, pulling him from his observation. “You don't have to push yourself too quickly. Baby steps, remember?”

Victor wanted to order for himself. He wanted to, but he thought about Yuuri's concern. He was right. He had only just stepped outside for the first time in months and now he was jumping into a shop, ready to speak to a stranger.

As much as he thought he was ready, he wasn't sure. And that wasn't a good enough reason.

Victor hesitated for a moment, “I – Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Baby Steps.”

Victor told him to surprise him with the drink and he took a seat farthest from anyone. His eyes were fixed on Yuuri, afraid of pulling his gaze away. He saw Yuuri pay for the drink before it was passed to his hand. He walked over, handing the cup to Victor.

“Careful, it's hot.”

Victor stared at the drink. “Didn't you get one for yourself?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I didn't want one.” Victor didn't know what else to say. He took a sip from his drink, wishing that he had taken Yuuri's advice to be careful because boy, it was _hot_.

In his attempts to ignore the burning feeling on his tongue, his eyes landed on the TV that sat on the wall nearby. He could hear it pretty well, but the subtitles made it easier to understand what was going on. It was playing the news, which Victor hadn't watched since before he disappeared.

Yuuri began talking about his routine and how he was doing, and Victor was responding in the way he should as a coach. Yuuri was being trained under Yakov while Victor recovered. He knew Yakov was the right choice to train Yuuri during his absence. He had once before. Victor didn't doubt Yakov for a second.

Victor was enjoying their talk until saw something familiar appear on the TV. His eyes suddenly landed back on it and there, in full, was a picture of Victor himself. His entire body froze in shock as he stared at the TV, everything else suddenly becoming muffled except for the TV itself. It was all he could hear.

“-Victor Nikiforov currently remains on the road to recovery after his disappearance, which has confirmed to be a Kidnapping. One question still remains on everyone's mind: Will Nikiforov continue to skate? We've also had confirmation that the man behind his disappearance is in fact, his father-”

The moment Victor's eyes laid on the picture of his father, he felt his whole body tremble. He tried to suck in a breath but he felt like his lungs were closed. He couldn't breathe. The room felt so small, and everything was spinning. The room was closing on him. Victor needed to leave. He needed to _breathe._

He stood in a swift movement, ignoring his coffee and Yuuri calling his name, and stumbled through the exit. He almost slammed the door open in his rush to get out. He gasped for a breath the moment he stepped outside but then his mind reminded him that he was alone. Nobody was there to help him. Nobody would save him. Where was Yuuri? Why wasn't Yuuri here?

_You're here with me and you won't be leaving._

His father was here. He could hear him. Victor spun on his heel, eyes scanning the street looking for the one man he feared the most. He gasped for breaths and his eyes couldn't focus on anything. He wouldn't be able to see his father coming. He wouldn't be able to tell.

He needed to run.

His legs carried him down the road as he fled. He needed to escape. He couldn't be caught by his father again. He couldn't, he wouldn't. His heart wouldn't stop pounding; it felt like it might tear out of his chest. He didn't want to die.

His legs gave out on him and he collapsed on the floor. His knees hit the ground and the pain that shot through his legs was ignored. He felt something wet fall down his cheeks and he realized he was crying. His breathing felt so difficult, it could only come out in tiny gasps and coughs.

_He breathed hard and heavy through his nose. The tape made it feel like he couldn't breathe properly._

He was back there. He couldn't have escaped. He couldn't breathe. His hands clawed at his hair and he began to pull. He needed to feel something – anything other than how numb his body felt. He needed a distraction from the voices and the memories. He wanted to forget. He just wanted to forget.

_You're here with me and you won't be leaving._

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Yuuri?

He became aware of the soft hands that were gently pressed on his shoulders, and something warm and fluffy licking at his face. He could hear somebody's voice speaking. Their voice was soothing and spoke calming words to him. Victor concentrated on it. The more he became aware of the safety he felt, the more his head cleared up and his vision returned to him. He blinked away the hazy fog over his eyes. He saw chocolate brown eyes staring back at him. He blinked hard. It was Yuuri.

Yuuri's hands moved, now either side of his cheek. His thumb wiped away Victors tears as they fell free from his eyes. His heart was still beating fast and his hands still trembled with fear, but the sense of love and safety he felt in Yuuri's presence was enough to calm him.

His words replayed in Victor's mind. He would never forget them.

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I believe you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yakov's arrival was unexpected. Victor had only spoken to the man over the phone most days as Yakov was too busy training other skaters and Victor – well, after the panic attack he had the last time he went outside, he was still somewhat reluctant to leave the house.

He had tried a few more times, each time became easier than the last. He wasn't ready to give up.

He arrived when Yuuri was practising, which confused Victor even more since Yakov was supposed to be there too. He had expected Mila to be the one to come over that day. It was her turn after all.

Victor still needed somebody to be with him while he was at home. He felt he was almost at the point where he could handle being by himself, but he wasn't sure yet. Yuuri had said if he wasn't sure, then they weren't going to do anything until he was certain.

So when the door opened and Victor didn't see the red haired skater, he couldn't work out what was going on.

“Wow, Mila. You've changed.” Victor joked and Yakov only grumbled a response.

Yakov took the chair beside the couch Victor laid on, a blanket draped over his legs and Makkachin curled up on him. Yakov looked at Victor with concern, then said, “That's the first time I've heard you make a joke in a while.”

Victor didn't realise. He cleared his throat in an attempt to distract himself from the silence that followed. “So... What are you doing here?” Victor asked, curious about his appearance. “Or have you given everyone a rare day off?”

“I imagine they'll do _some_ skating in my absence, just not routines – which is why I can't stay for long. I came to see how you're doing.” Yakov took a quick deep breath, “We can't keep talking over Yuuri's phone. It only does so much. I need to hear it in person, Vitya.”

Victor started scratching behind Makkachin's ear in a low-key attempt to distract himself, “I'm... coping.” Victor tears his gaze away from Yakov, unable to meet his eyes. “I'm at the point where I'd like to find a way to talk to people about... about it.”

“And the panic attacks?”

“Some things still trigger them,” Victor informs him, “Like, I still can't sleep in the dark. And loud noises still sometimes trigger it, it depends on what the sound is like, or... or seeing a shed. That one I think is weird, but I'm getting them less often now.”

Yakov thought for a moment. “You've told me you've been outside too?”

“Oh, yeah!” Victor nodded happily, “Yeah, I'm getting better at that. I mean, I still need somebody to be with me but I'm getting better.”

Yakov nodded along. Victor knew Yakov already knew most of what he was saying, but it didn't hurt to repeat a few things. “It'll be good to see you back at the rink, Vitya. Everyone misses seeing you skate there.”

Victor hummed in response, paying his attention back to Makkachin. Victor then thought back, his brows dropping. “Yakov.”

“Yes?”

Victor tried hard to think. There was something he didn't tell Yakov. “Did I tell you about my notebook?”

Yakov paused to think. He then shook his head. “I believe not.”

“Oh, well, I think I found – well, Yuuri, found a way to help me make sense of my... yeah,” Victor informed him. Yakov sat in silence, listening. “He told me to write down what I can, and maybe in time, it could help me learn to talk about it. At least in getting it out, even if it is in writing.”

Yakov nodded along, then asked, “Is it helping at all?”

Victor thought about it. He hadn't actually noticed. “I – I think so?” Victor wasn't sure. “By now I've written probably most of what had happened. It does feel nice to get some things off my chest.”

Yakov grinned proudly, “I'm glad you're finding ways to get out how you feel.”

Victor then narrowed his eyes. “That's not what you came here to talk to me about, is it?”

“Yes and no,” Yakov spoke honestly. “You've been avoiding the subject for quite some time now and I need to ask you this now, as you coach. Are you, or will you return to skating?”

_One question still remains on everyone's mind: Will Nikiforov continue to skate?_

Victor squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't need the memory to come back now. He didn't want to panic. He didn't want to remember the last big panic attack he had, or how he felt so terrified and on edge and -

_I want you to listen to me, and understand why I took you._

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Yuuri's voice spoke louder, speaking over his fathers. Yuuri's voice always helped, always shut his father voice out. Yuuri didn't know it, but his words, his voice, they helped him. They quietened his father's voice that barely made it above a whisper anymore.

Victor opened his eyes and his stare met Yakov's. “I will make that decision when I feel I'm ready. I just want to concentrate on my recovery.”

Yakov kept his gaze, “When you are ready to answer, I trust you'll come and find me.”

Victor took a deep breath and smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

For the first time since Victor returned home, he found his phone charger and charged up his phone. He didn't want to use it for social needs, so all the messages, notifications and missed calls that appeared, he ignored.

He wanted to make a post. He thought about it for a while. There were a lot of people who were wondering how he was doing. He hadn't even contacted Chris. He hated knowing how worried Chris must have been.

He made a mental note to call him at some point. In the meantime, he took Yuuri's advice and wrote down what he couldn't say. Informing those on Twitter, rather than his notepad.

  


_V-Nikiforov_

_I know my absence since my return home has been unexplained and I apologise for that, but I want everyone to know that I am coping. I appreciate the concern and I want to assure all of you that I can fight this. I'm just taking everything at my own pace. Baby steps._

_In regards to the situation, I am not ready to speak about it. Please respect my decision. When I feel the time is right and I am in the right state of mind, I will discuss it and I will let you all know, but for now, I can only say one thing: I will not let this defeat me._

_As for my skating, I am still unsure if I will skate competitively again. Since returning home, I have yet to get back onto the ice. I have other things I need to concentrate on first. My mental health comes first. It is the most important thing right now. I can't skate in my state. When I recover, I will make the choice, but right now, I can't answer any questions about a return._

_Thank you all for your concern. It really helps._

  


He decided after his tweet that he should also upload something onto Instagram too. He hadn't in so long. He took a simple picture of the view outside his window with the caption, 'It's good to be home.'

He debated about switching his phone off. On one hand, he wanted to leave it on. He wanted to start contacting people. Yet, he didn't want to read the comments on his recent posts or be anywhere near the online world.

Victor went halfway. He went online, instead only to buy himself a new phone. After that, he switched off his phone.

He wanted a fresh start.

 

* * *

 

 

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuri had the day off, he took the chance to go and visit Victor.

Victor hadn't needed someone to be with him at all times anymore. As long as he had Makkachin with him when he was by himself, he could get through the day with some ease.

It was only recently that Victor asked Yuuri to let him try and spend the day alone. Yuuri wasn't overly fond of the idea, but Victor assured him that he was completely ready. He trusted Victor's judgement on himself and agreed. The following day, Yuuri left to go to practice and Victor remained at home, only with the company of his companion and nobody else.

Victor knew Yuuri would worry about him. Yakov called him an hour after Yuuri left saying that he couldn't land any of his jumps. Victor felt awful. He knew Yuuri struggled to jump because he was worried about Victor.

He called Yuuri up himself. He tried reassuring him that he was, in fact, okay. Not fine, just okay.

Yuuri accepted the answer, making his jumps improve only slightly.

It might have explained Yuri's appearance that day, even if Yuri's 'reason' was, “To make sure you're, you know... breathing and stuff.” Victor couldn't tell if he was worried about Victor being by himself that day or Yuuri.

Yuri didn't tell him which one.

He told Victor about everything that was happening at the rink. He didn't need to know since Yuuri had already told him everything, but he wasn't going to stop Yuri from telling things his own way, such as how Mila still continued to annoy Yuri by lifting him whenever he got the chance, or how Georgi announced that he didn't need to find a woman and could survive by himself, only to arrive the next day and declare he found his one true love.

Victor had already heard all these stories, but they still made him smile.

Yuri was midway through telling Victor about how Otabek's skating was going when Victor decided it was time. “Yuri,” Victor said to him, causing Yuri to stop talking. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Okay?” Yuri eyed him cautiously. Victor then stood up only to disappear into his room for a moment. He returned, the notepad Yuuri had given him was in hand. Yuri looked at it, “What's that?”

Victor sat back down. He had thought long about the book. Since Yuuri gave it to him, he had written down almost everything he could think of. He wrote all his memories, how he felt, what he thought, he almost didn't miss a single detail.

He hadn't ever read through it, but he felt he wrote enough that his story was explained well enough. It took him longer than he had hoped to get everything written down. He only ever wrote in it late at night, while Yuuri slept.

He handed the book over to Yuri, “Don't open it,” He said as the book left his hands. “When you feel the time is right, I want you to give that book to Yuuri.”

Yuri's eyes shot between the book and Victor, “I don't understand? Why can't you just give the damn book to him yourself?”

Victor realized he hadn't told Yuri about the notebook. He told Yakov about it, and obviously Yuuri, since he gave Victor the idea. He just hadn't told Yuri yet. Better now than ever.

“It has... everything that happened to me written in it,” Victor explained. He saw Yuri's eyes widen before landing to the book itself. “I want to be able to talk about it, but I just _can't_. Yuuri gave me the idea to write everything down, so at least it's not trapped all inside here,” He tapped his forehead.

Yuri remained silent for a moment and it made Victor worry. He then opened his mouth and spoke, “I still don't understand why you can't give it to him yourself.”

“I can't know he's reading it. I don't think I could handle him reading it while I'm sat there watching him. I can't – I can't know. If I don't know he's reading it, then I won't... freak out, I guess.” Victor swallowed hard. “Does that make any sense?”

“To me? No.” Yuri flat out said. “But I didn't go through what you did. I wouldn't know. But Victor, Yuuri would talk to you about it when he does read it.”

“And I want him to,” Victor spoke quickly. By then, he hoped to be prepared for that talk. “I can't know he's reading it, but once he knows, I don't have to tell him the whole story. I can talk about it in little bits, and Yuuri can respond to the parts I can't speak about. It's the only way I can fight this. I want to talk about it, Yuri. I'm finding my own way of doing so.”

Yuri didn't say anything for a moment. His eyes remained fixed on the notepad Victor gave him. He then sighed, and said, “I guess. If you think it'll help you, I'll do it.”

Victor sighed with relief. “Thank you, Yuri.”

 

* * *

 

 

“My father was never a nice man,” Victor found himself saying one day while eating. He didn't even think about saying it. The words just spoke from his mouth without any warning.

Yuuri froze midway through taking a bite of his food. He stared straight at Victor, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. He lowered his fork, “What?”

Victor swallowed hard. “Did you know he was responsible?” He asked, “Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. Victor took a deep breath. The silence was thick between the two. Neither really knew what to do. Yuuri's voice then broke the silence. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”

Victor thought about it. “No.” He says. “That's it, for now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Victor found himself standing in front of his front door. He stared at it. The outside world is just on the opposite side, and he wanted to see it, by himself.

He could hear Yuuri in the kitchen. He was humming a song Victor didn't know. He closed his eyes, finding the sound encouraging. Listening to the sound of Yuuri's voice always brought him peace. _It's okay, I promise._ Yuuri's voice speaks to him. _Everything is going to be alright._

Victor opened his eyes. He was ready.

His hand reached for the door handle. In his hesitation, he would see his hand beginning to shake. He didn't want to feel scared anymore. He didn't want to fear stepping outside alone. He wanted to feel like himself again.

He willed himself as he grabbed the door handle, twisting it. That was the first step. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the second. He counted from ten in his head. He then took another breath and when his mind reached the number one – he swung the door open.

The air was colder that day and the sun was hidden behind thick clouds. Victor breathed in the frosty air. He hadn't felt this kind of cold in a while. He then prepared himself for step three, where he would do what he thought felt impossible.

He stepped a foot outside. Then another – and another. A couple of steps was enough for him at that moment. He didn't want to walk too far away from home. Victor stood there and watched as life went by. A few people walked past him and his heart raced as each one got closer, only to just ignore him and walk past him. He watched them as they walked further down the road. They didn't hurt him. They didn't try to take him.

He took a couple more steps to look down his road. He wanted to walk further out. He wanted to see if he could do it. He would be by himself, without anyone to protect him. He wouldn't have Yuuri or Makkachin, nobody, to protect him. But Victor felt ready. In fact, he felt strangely fine.

He looked down at his hands. They trembled only a little, but in all, he felt okay.

He took a deep breath then nodded to himself. He could do this. His feet then did the thinking for him, and he walked. He walked further away from the protection of his home, with nobody with him. He checked over his shoulder. Nobody was there. He walked even further.

He turned a corner just as somebody walked past him. Victor stopped in his tracks. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the person walking past him with side, terrified eyes. The stranger only gave him a confused look before ignoring him and walking past him. Victor blinked hard, then fast. They... they ignored him. They didn't -

He was so utterly lost. Nobody acted like a threat to him. Nobody put him in any danger. He couldn't believe it. He felt so worried and panicked for so long and yet it now felt so... simple. His heart raced, but no longer out of fear. He almost wanted to laugh. He couldn't believe he had done it. He tackled a fear he felt so strongly over. He was ecstatic.

He knew he would still be overly cautious being outside, but he felt he could defeat it. This was a big step.

He had to tell Yuuri.

He turned back around, speed walking back to his house. As he reached the front door and as he went to walk back inside, he saw Yuuri race towards the door. His eyes were wide with fear and his breath heavy, coming out in short, quick pants.

“Victor!” Yuuri sounded close to tears. “I thought you – I thought -”

“I went outside,” Victor murmured, tears filling his eyes. “I went outside by myself and I didn't feel scared. Yuuri, I didn't feel scared.”

Yuuri's arms wrapped around Victor, and Victor returned it. They held each other tight, unwanting to let go. Victor let his tears slip from his eyes. For the first time, in what felt like forever, they were tears of joy.

He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor saw once, on a show, that some victims found closure visiting the people who caused them harm. At the time, he couldn't understand how it could possibly help somebody find closure. He didn't get it.

But now, he understood. It was a sense of relief, he assumed. Or even pride. He wasn't sure, but he was sure of something.

He had been thinking about that for a long time.

He was torn between two feelings towards the choice of visiting his father. He felt confident enough to travel up there, and he knew he would be safe, so even if his father did try anything, it wouldn't cause Victor any harm. All he wanted to do was talk to him. He never got the chance to when he was taken. He felt it was the right.

But he was also terrified to see his face. The last time he had, he had a panic attack in the middle of a coffee shop. A picture of his father was enough to do that to him, he didn't know how the real thing would affect him. He didn't want his father seeing him like that. Not anymore.

So he put everything together, all the pros and cons. He had more reasons not to visit him. But Victor didn't like it. There was so much he wanted to say, he felt he couldn't move on.

His pros, even with how little he had written down, were bigger than the cons. They had more to them.

He wanted to do this. He wanted closure. He wanted to move on.

Victor never told Yuuri that he wanted to do this. As much as he wanted to, he didn't know how Yuuri would react, and this was something Victor wanted – no, needed to do. He pushed those thoughts to the side. He would worry about Yuuri's reaction afterwards. Right now, he only had Yuuri's words repeat in his mind, easing his thoughts.

He could do this.

The travel up there felt strange. He knew who he was visiting, but the travel felt almost unreal. His heart pounded the entire way but he breathed himself through it. He didn't want to panic. Not now, during, or after his visit. He wanted it to be a smooth trip.

But he was visiting his father. It would never be a smooth trip.

He parked up his car and prepared himself for both the best case and worst case scenario. He wanted to be ready for anything that came his way. He stared up at the large building – the prison where his father was held. He hadn't been this close to his father since his disappearance. And now, he was going to be face to face with the man himself.

The thought terrified him.

_It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

He stepped out of his car, pulling his coat tighter to his body. It was both because of the chill he felt from the cold air and a way to comfort himself. He took a deep breath, remembering why he was here – closure. He needed closure. He had so much to say.

As he walked inside the building, he found that he was actually a little too early for visiting hours. He wasn't sure how he felt about having to wait any longer, but he was here. He didn't want to turn back now.

An officer recognized him and asked Victor what his business was. Victor explained his situation and the officer was rather kind to him in response. They explained to him that when visiting someone, they would be face to face and surrounded by others who were there to visit. His father wouldn't be cuffed, and that had Victor begin to tremble. He needed to feel safe. He couldn't have his father be able to touch him.

Victor asked if there was any way he could have both the privacy and the protection while talking to him. He was thankful that the officer recognised him in the end, as he didn't have to explain why he needed to be so protected. The officer told him they could do it for him, so he had no reason to feel unsafe.

It was a relief. He sat down in a seat and waited. His leg wouldn't stop bouncing and he couldn't stop playing with his hands. He knew he must have looked nervous. He caught the stares from a few people. Either they were questioning his nervousness or they recognised him. He felt fortunate that they didn't intrude on his privacy. After all, they were all here for the same reason: visiting someone who broke the law.

He glanced at each person who was waiting too, wondering if any of them were here for the similar reason as him. He wondered if any needed closure too, and chose to visit the person who caused them so much grief and pain. He didn't know, and at the same time, he didn't want to know.

Eventually, they all were told that visiting hours were open. The officer who promised Victor a private room came over to him and asked him to follow. He was taken away from the rest of the group, down a different hallway.

He had to get checked first, a pat down was required. He knew it would be quick. He didn't have anything other than his car keys and his wallet on him. Once they were finished, he was asked to follow the officer again, taken him some place else.

His mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He worked on autopilot. Two officers guided him towards a room. He was taken inside.

The room was rather small, big enough to fit four officers in each corner and a table with two chairs. Victor swallowed hard, knowing his father should be here any minute now. He sat down at the table, his hands rested on his lap and he waited.

“We'll be bringing him in once he's ready,” The officer who first spoke to him had said, “Are you ready for it?”

Victor mutely nodded. It was now or never. He couldn't back out now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He remembered Yuuri's words. _It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be alright._

Everything is going to be alright. Victor believed those words.

The door in front of him banged open and as Victor stared at the door, his eyes fell on the one person he thought he would never see again. He stared into the cold, blue eyes of his fathers. His father returned the look, a lopsided smirk rested on his face.

He was sat down and cuffed to the table, his wrists remaining in front of him. The two officers behind him took a step forward, making sure he didn't try anything, keeping Victor protected.

As Victor stared at his father, for the first time, he felt he could finally read the man's true emotion. The smirk on his face failed to hide what sorrow the man had tried to hide. Victor would even say he could see some regret, but he couldn't tell.

His heart still raced with nerves, but his panic was mild. He felt confident in himself to stick through the conversation.

“I never expected to see you again,” His father broke the silence.

“Likewise.”

His father huffed, “So, what brought my lovely son to come and visit me?” His voice was almost mocking him, trying to intimidate him. “Did you miss me too much? Or do you regret what you did to our family and you're here begging for my forgiveness, because I won't give it to you.”

“And I won't to you, either,” Victor spoke sternly. He didn't let his father get to him. He couldn't. He had too much to say. “And the only thing I ever regret is not telling you what I truly feel.”

“And what is that?”

Victor paused for a moment, trying to find the right place to begin. “You are, and always have been, a pathetic excuse of a father.”

His father laughed loudly and Victor blinked hard. The laugh felt forced, it took him by surprise. “And what makes you think I don't think the same about you?” His father questioned, “What makes you think I don't find you a pathetic excuse of a son?”

“I know you think that. But I also know you hate it,” Victor leant forward, hands folding in front of him. “You always wanted me to be that perfect son you always imagined. And your idea on perfect was somebody you could control, isn't it? You hated that I never listened to you. You hated that you struggled to control every aspect of my life, like you had to my mother.”

His father remained silent for a moment. Victor could read him so much easier. He could see his father struggling to find the words to speak. He couldn't deny it. He knew it was the truth, but he couldn't admit that to Victor.

Victor almost wanted to smile.

“Your mother would be very disappointed in you.”

Victor rolled his eyes and sighed excessively. “And right there, you use mother against me to get your own way.” His father opened his mouth to reply back but Victor spoke over him. “Don't even deny it. You know exactly what you're doing. I won't let you do that to me anymore. I won't allow you to.”

“So you don't care about your mother, is that what you're saying?” His father's smirk returned. Victor wanted to slap it away.

“I care about her more than I care about you.” Victor gritted his teeth. “You just loved that you could control her. That is what killed her, you know. You killed mother, and you're so selfish that you can't even see it.”

His father made a noise of rage. His hands flew forward towards Victor's neck, but they only went so far. The cuffs kept them close to the table and Victor moved back, away from his father trying to grab him. The two officers behind his father pulled him back down to his chair and he slumped back, his face now sulking.

Victor stared at the sight. He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. He then moved forward, closer than he had ever gotten before and he spoke, below a whisper, “You know you killed her, don't you?”

His eyes met his fathers. Grief. Regret. Remorse. It was all he could read in his father's eyes. He could see that was how he felt towards his mother. How did he feel towards Victor?

“You know that you can't control me.” Victor leant back, a faint smile played on his lips. “Did you ever feel any kind of love towards me? Outside of you wanting to control me?”

His father's eyes met his, and he said in a flat tone, “I did, once.”

Victor's expression never faltered. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Victor remained silent for a moment, thinking. “Now it's my turn to be honest with you.”

His father didn't say anything. Victor took it as a silent request to continue. “I have my own life now. A life outside of you controlling me, and I won't let you continue to do so. Those five days I spent trapped inside your... your shed, I had a lot of time to think. For the first time, I found my fight. I found my fight against you, and against your control. Your obsession for it was what destroyed our family, not me, and I hope you remember that for the rest of your life.”

Victor stood up but made no movement to leave. He stared down at his father's face and for the first time in his life, he felt in control of his father.

“I wish you a long and happy life behind these bars.” He spoke. “And I hope you never forget today, because this will be the last time you will ever see my face in person ever again.”

Victor turned his back, making eye contact with one of the officers who understood he wanted to leave. The door was unlocked and Victor could hear his father's voice, “Victor,” Victor made no move to turn around. He refused to give his father the final satisfaction. “Victor, please!” The door was closed shut, separating him and his father for the final time.

Victors walk out of the prison and towards his car felt almost unreal. He unlocked the car door, sat down in the driver's seat, closed his eyes and breathed.

The heavy feeling in his stomach bubbled and he pushed open the car door to vomit over the floor. He coughed and spluttered, the vomit leaving an acid taste in his mouth. His eyes started to water as he heaved. He had needed to do that since he saw the man.

When he calmed down, he sat back in his seat and closed the door again. He grabbed a tissue, wiping his eyes, then mouth. The tissue was then dropped to the side and his hand raised to his mouth, trying to cover up his sobs.

He felt a tear fall down his cheek and he wiped it away with the palm of his hand. They were no longer tears of guilt and fear, but joy and pride. He felt so proud of himself, for the first time, he stood up to his father. He fought back again, he became his own person.

He overcame so many fears. It felt like a lifetime ago he was sat in that shed, crying and begging for his release. And now, he was getting his life back on track. He was becoming Victor again. He didn't feel like a victim anymore. He felt like he was a survivor who didn't lose the fight. He liked the way it sounded. Victor Nikiforov: Fighter, survivor.

He wiped away the last of his tears, ready to drive himself home.

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Victor closed the door to his home behind him, he was crushed by Yuuri's hug.

It took Victor by surprise. He glanced at the clock. Yuuri was supposed to be at practice. It confused him. He wasn't supposed to be home yet, and Victor didn't tell him he was going to leave the house that day. Yet, Yuuri seemed so worried.

“Yuuri?” Victor spoke, unsure of what to do. “Is everything okay?”

Yuuri took a step back and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He sniffed as he raised his head, then lifted a hand. Victor's eyes landed on his notepad now in Yuuri's grasp. Victor had one assumption; Yuri gave him the book. That would explain Yuuri's appearance.

But then it hit Victor. Yuuri read the book. He knew everything that went through Victor's mind, and what had happened to him. The book that had his story inside, was now known to one other person.

“Victor, I -” Yuuri paused. A sob caught in his throat. “I can't... Victor, I knew it was bad, but...”

Victor felt his eyes tear up, “Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked at him with gleaming eyes. Victor gripped his hand and pulled him into a warm embrace. Victor sank his face into Yuuri's neck, as Yuuri buried his into Victors. They held onto each other.

Victor could feel his shirt becoming damp with tears as Yuuri cried. Yuuri then pulled back and panic touched Victor for just a moment before Yuuri circled his arms around Victor's waist, giving him a sweet, lingering kiss.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead against Victors. “You are _so_ strong. You're just – Incredible. Victor -”

Victor didn't know what to say. He pressed his lips to Yuuri's before pulling back from the embrace. He took Yuuri's hand and guided him to the living room. The two sat down, hand in hand and Victor knew he was ready to talk about it.

“I'm ready.”

Yuuri swallowed hard and nodded. “Do – Do you want me to ask stuff or...?”

“I... I want you to ask me something that can get me to discuss it. I don't know where to start.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said before taking a moment to think. “I read, on the first page, I think, that you... You couldn't remember how you got there?”

“I couldn't, no,” Victor remembered that too well. He remembered the fear he felt and the unknown. “I had no idea who took me. I didn't know if they wanted to hurt me or... touch me, or what. Every bad possible outcome went through my mind.” He felt Yuuri's thumb stroke over his hand in a comforting motion. Victor stared down at their intertwined hands, smiling faintly.

“I wanted nothing more than to escape, Yuuri,” Victor suddenly said, meeting Yuuri's eyes. “Being isolated in a place like that for so long, with the constant fear that any day could be your last... It... It brought out a part of me I didn't know existed.”

“And what was that?” Yuuri asked.

“Fight,” Victor replied, and Yuuri's face flashed with question. Victor had to explain. “I never... I never had to fight for something in my life. At least, not as hard as I had to when I was there. I'm usually pretty good at getting my own way, as bad as that sounds, but... being – being tied up and forced t-to accept the help from the person who took you, it...” Victor had to stop. He had to find his words. “I had to fight. If I hadn't, I don't know if I'd be here.”

Yuuri pressed his hand to Victor's cheek, his hand then slipping through Victor's hair. Yuuri smiled, “You're so strong, Victor. You kept your ground.”

“I did,” Victor agreed. He could remember each time he fought back against his father. “I did that today, too.”

Yuuri's hand paused midway through his hair, “Huh?”

Victor bit his lip. “I visited my father today.”

Yuuri blinked once. Then twice. “...Yakov?”

“My biological father, Yuuri,” Victor corrected. Yuuri's hand dropped from his hair. “The one who kidnapped me.”

Yuuri's face paled. His grip on his hand tightened. “...What?”

“I needed closure.” Victor begins. “I've been thinking about it for months. There was so much I wanted to say to him while I was with him, but for obvious reasons, I couldn't. But now? I'm free. I have my freedom back and he can't control me anymore. Yuuri, he... he called me back when I left. I told him what I wanted and he wanted me back. And I didn't turn back. I walked away. It was different this time, he didn't demand me back. He was begging for me. I – I'm still having trouble figuring out what it all meant, but I feel good. I feel really, really good.”

Yuuri didn't smile immediately, but when he had, Victor felt at ease. “I'm so proud of you, Victor.”

Victor smiled back, almost wanting to cry again, but he didn't. He was done with crying. “I want to talk more about what happened,” Victor said after a moment. “There are some things I didn't write down, and I feel you deserve to know them.”

Yuuri nodded and listened as Victor explained everything, and more.

 

* * *

 

 

A year it had taken Victor to see a professional.

Once Victor was able to speak about what had happened to him, he felt like a weight had been lifted. There was so much he still kept trapped in his mind, certain emotions he couldn't control and memories he struggled to remember remained.

He still had trouble piecing everything together. He was told it was normal for his mind to chose to forget certain things, but he wanted to remember, just to make sense of everything. Now he was able to talk about it, he felt he could finally get on that path.

He soon found that as much as he wanted to make sense of why he was kidnapped, he also wanted to make sense of his father. It was both the way he acted, the way he treated Victor and his reason why he chose to take him. It was more for Victor to discover, but he felt confident that he may one day find the answer.

His recovery was slow but he felt confident enough to do more things, take more risks. He was slowly, but surely, getting himself back together. He was confronting his fears, slowly getting himself back into the swing of life.

Victor knew better than anyone that he would never be the same again. He knew he might never be able to sleep in the dark again, or be able to look into someone's garden and not have a flashback just because he saw a god damn shed, (Which Victor still felt embarrassed about admitting) or to walk down the road that he was taken, but he was taking everything one step at a time.

Unless something has triggered his flashbacks, he didn't have so many panic attacks anymore. They had gradually become less frequent. But he learned how to take more control of them and find ways to help himself cope when he did have one.

With the help he was receiving from his medication which he now took, his friends, and Yuuri, he felt he could bring himself to do something he hadn't done since he was taken.

_**Everything is going to be alright.** _

The words replayed in his mind as Victor took the first step on the ice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest thing I've written in a while. It's been so long, I've only recently started writing again and holy hell, I forgot how slow I write ;-;
> 
> That's all for this fic. I hope you all enjoyed it! <3


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